Records of Change
by Midnakdak
Summary: With no familiar summone Louise comes to terms with the fact that she will have to teach herself. Still, leaving school means entering adulthood; marriage and politics included.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Fourteenth Day of Brimir's Third Month

Today I was needlessly cruel to Professor Colbert. The kind man had simply offered to tutor me once again, but in my rage all I returned were insults and blame; words I shall regret for some time I fear. However, there was one scathing remark that I would not take back entirely. For though the insulting way in which I said it was beneath me, its objective meaning held truth. I said that he and all the teachers at Tristain had failed to teach me magic. A few days ago I failed to even summon a familiar. Two years at this school and every cantrip, spell, and ritual I perform still results in nothing more than an explosion.

I am now left with a choice. Repeat my second year at the academy or "postpone my education." Of course they couldn't say quit, what kind of noble quit? Even as I write my mouth is filled with distaste. Nobles shouldn't use clever wordplay to shirk their responsibilities. I for one shall never fall into that mire of grandstanding about honor and dignity. I shall always act with honor _for the sake of honor._ Nothing less would befit a Valliere. As such I shall leave this school. No, not to quit; but to study my magic myself.

From the tutors my parents hired, to the classes at the academy, to every private session with this professor or that one; none had helped in the slightest. When I decried Proffessor Colbert and all the academy for failing me, I realized I had struck at the heart of the matter. No one could teach me how to use my magic. It is a field foreign to every expert in the kingdom. So, I will go home and I will teach myself. Call me a hedge mage behind my back, but I _will_ bring my magic to heel.

It is for the sake of my research that I have begun this journal. As much as I detest Kirche Zerbst, her rantings of passionate fire are not wrong. The emotional state of a mage is undeniably linked to their magic. Thus, I shall record my thoughts and feelings before moving on to experimentation with my magic. With that said, I have work to do.

Recurring Experiments:

Unless otherwise noted I will conduct these experiments at a range of 30' for safety.

Experiment 1: Largest Explosion

Result: Though I am unsure how to go about adjusting the size of these spell failures I have decided to try never the less. Largest crater size was 15' 3"across created under forced emotional stress by thinking of Kirche Zerbst. Founder damn that woman.

Experiment 2: Smallest Explosion

Result: Smallest Crater size was 10' 1" across created with a neutral state mind. Hardly a difference, but there _is_ variance. That much is hope.

Experiment 3: Furthest Explosion

Result: Furthest center of crater from wand tip was 53' 11" created with a neutral state of mind. It should be noted I created a crater whose edge reached further under an angered state of mind, if only because the crater itself was larger.

Experiment 4: Highest Explosion

Result: I was reprimanded for using the side of the school tower as an improvised measuring device. However, before I was caught I managed to determine that my vertical range is equal to my horizontal range. In the future I shall combine the two tests. As a last note, if my "failure" magic can put that many cracks in the side of the tower then they needed to redo the enchantments anyway.

Experiment 5:Accuracy Test

Result: After the last detention of my schooling here, I engaged this test further away from the annoyed teachers. 7 out of 26 spells created craters that overlapped the designated target. 4 out of those seen were created under a stubborn mindset due to receiving detention for learning in a school.

Unique Test: Subterranean Explosion

Result: At max range downward I could feel the earth beneath me shudder slightly. Casting a spell at roughly just bellow the surface was a frightening experience. Earth was tossed to the heavens in a far grander explosion than I had expected. Crater width was 25' 3". Far greater than even my largest previous attempt. After taking me to the healer Professor Colbert explained the reason for this was likely not magic in the earth as I had initially hypothesized; rather, explosive force was magnified in contained locations. Similar to some mundane device he is experimenting with.

Sixteenth Day of Brimir's Third Month

To any future scribe making a copy of this journal, please forgive this sloppy penmanship. My arm is still weak from its break two days ago and I am tired from travel. Yet this cannot wait. I must note I failed to apologize to the Professor before leaving the academy. The man has been nothing but kind to me. even after I injured myself experimenting and he carried me to the healer I failed to apologize. Even after he offered to share correspondence with me as one researcher to another I could not bring myself to say the words I knew I should. Damn my stubbornness.

Currently I am at the Nymph's Rest Inn. My usual stop on my journey home from the academy. Though I expect this may be my last stop here. Though I will not miss the trepidation of meeting mother, I will miss the Inn's warm hearth and kind owner Reginald. Reggie, as he prefers to be called to spite his ever increasing age, treats me without the fear most commoners give nobles nor the disrespect some fools replace it with. Of course the inn rests within Valliere lands. I suppose I should give some credit to my father. Though he lacks the flashy adventuring stories of my mother, his management of his lands is second to none.

Recurring Experiments:

Experiment 1: Largest Explosion

Result: 9' 10" created with a regretful mind. I should note that once removed from the Inn's calming atmosphere my mind inevitably drifts back to the Professor. Rather than blame him for this ridiculous variance in crater width I have decided that my magic is spiting me for daring to control it. It is an easier target to blame.

My experiments stopped early for today as I am dreadfully weary from my travels. Willpower exhaustion is not just some tale to keep children from playing with magic. I would rather not burn myself out just as I started to learn.

Seventeenth Day of Brimir's Third Month

Once again I must ask the pardon of a possible future scribe. My poor penmanship is not caused by weariness this day. No, today I met with my parents. I have never seen my mother mad before. Not stern. Not disappointed. Mad.

Regardless of what I said, she did not believe I had resolved to teach myself. Rather, she said I was fooling myself in my usual stubbornness so I didn't have to face the fact I had given up. The frightful thing is, she might be right. Just last night I had given up after one experiment. Is my will so soft a few days of work is all it can muster? No. I write this with quill clenched so tight my knuckles are pearl white. If there is _one_ thing I can be proud of, it is that I am far too stubborn to give up.

Recurring Experiments:

Experiment 1: Largest Explosion

Result: 15' 5" created with a stubborn mindset. Not sure if the larger width is progress simply variance.

Experiment 2: Smallest Explosion

Result: 10' 7" created with a stubborn mindset. Though this points to variance in the above experiment, I shall withhold judgment.

Experiment 3: Furthest Explosion

Result: Over 90' created with a stubborn mindset. The crater appeared within the forest near my family's estate, making measuring difficult. Why my max range is suddenly so much greater is perplexing. Is stubbornness the best emotional state to be in for range? After my initial excitement I have not been able to produce a stubborn mindset nor an explosion beyond 50'. I shall make a note to cast a spell next time I am feeling stubborn, provided the circumstances allow for it.

Experiment 4: Accuracy Test

Result: 1 in 20 craters overlapped the intended target, all created under an excited mindset. If stubbornness is a boon for range, excitement is surely a bane for accuracy. Still, my heart is not floundering.

Unique Test: Inter-tree Explosion

Result: In the spirit of testing Professor Colbert's hypothesis on subterranean explosions, I attempted to create an explosion within a tree stump. Resulting crater size was 20' 3". Possible affecting factors are less material to pack in the explosion to the fact that the explosion's origin, the center of the explosion was above ground, or that it took 17 attempts to accurately hit the stump.

Note: In my frustration I approached closer than was safe to gain accuracy. There is a shard of wood stuck half a foot deep in nearby tree. In the future I shall remember safety first.

As is becoming my custom I shall apologize for this poor penmanship. This time my hand shakes not from exhaustion nor from anxiety. No, now I tremble with excitement. Mother was watching me. Truly I had not intended to put on a show for her, but she watched regardless. Tired and drained, I was resting against a tree when she approached with all the stealth of a spirit. Without word she took my journal, read it, and returned it to me. "Three Months." Her words were neutral and succinct. If I did not shirk my training for three months, she would accept she was wrong. She said if I held my resolve for three months, she would apologize to me. Apologize! Mother! Does she even know how? Note: never let her read this again without blotting that out.

So dear future scribe, I promise to you we will both get that apology.

Eighteenth Day of Brimir's Third Month

Today my heart is conflicted. Though my parents' opinion of me has vastly improved from yesterday, they still summoned me to talk about my future. Regardless of my resolve to teach myself, I am still out of education now and I have to make a choice. Do I marry Viscount Wardes? With no commitments and of proper age it falls within etiquette that we make good on my engagement to the Viscount. To delay for any length of time would be a slight worse than even outright canceling the engagement. Tis one thing to renege on a deal, but another to not even regard the opposite party.

Now, future scribe, I mull over this proposal as if I have a choice not out of foolish fancy, but because I actually _do_ have a choice. Though most women my age have little say in their arranged matches, my father is very direct in telling my suitors I get the final say. This is not out of doting, no he made that very clear. The choice is so I understand I am choosing to fulfill a responsibility to the family. Rather than a bartering piece to be used, I am a member of the Valliere household and I have a part to play in that team no matter the size. I can choose my own wishes over the needs of the family, but will _know_ I am putting myself first and my family second. Also, I imagine there is _some _doting in my father's rule. Just some.

Viscount Wardes is the match that comes back to. To put it bluntly, as a Viscount he is below my social station. However, the failings of my magic are widely known if not spoken and now that I have left the school I am sure that bit of gossip will spread all the more. Such a blemish means I have to marry below my station or not at all. Viscount Wardes is the family's way out. Though of low station, he is a minor hero with several accomplishments of renown. He served under my father's command for a time and has since risen to command the Griffon Knights. Rewarding a prized pupil with your youngest daughter is not terribly uncommon, and far better at saving face than quietly marrying me off to some match without fanfare.

Beyond all the social boons Wardes brings with him, the truth is he is a kind and good man. Growing up he was soft to me when I was sad, wise when I was confused, and encouraging when I depressed. I love him; this much I know. However, do I love him as a woman loves a man? He is handsome and dashing, but I am unsure of my heart.

Though I write in an intricate dance to avoid the subject, I knew my answer before I even put quill to paper. Viscount Wardes is a far better man than most. I could court with a hundred more suitors and find no man as good as he. The match is perfect socially, and I would do right by the Valliere name to marry him. Even ignoring all else, I agreed to the proposal long ago. Even though I was young I still gave my word, and I never go back on my word.

I will marry Viscount Wardes.

Recurring Experiments:

Experiment 1: Largest Explosion

Result: 16' 2" created with a frustrated mindset. After failing to exceed 15' I grew frustrated and reached a new width.

Experiment 2: Smallest Explosion

Result: 5' 3" created with a amorous mindset. I was thinking fondly of my time spent with Wardes when I managed such a beautifully pitiful explosion. Odd that love seems to weaken my power. Will test in the future.

Experiment 3: Furthest Explosion

Result: Back to 50' range. Mostly confused and intrigued mindsets. Further testing needed.

Experiment 4: Accuracy Test

Result: 10 in 20 craters overlapped the intended target, most created with intrigued mindset.

Unique Test: Effect on Wind

Result: With Mother's help I created explosions within what she calls 'Heavy Air,' a component to her famous spell that creates thick, magic infused air. The idea was to test and see how my magic interacted with her wind element. In her words she felt absolutely nothing, as if my explosions were a mundane force rather than wind or fire magic, both of which were very easy for her to feel. That still leaves earth, water, or some other excuse for a magic element.

As a note, it was nice practicing with mother. I've never really felt comfortable with her. This feeling was new.


	2. Chapter 2

Note: It is Saito's use of the gandalfr runes and their stopping of Fouquet that reveals Louise as a void mage to Wardes. Such events are not taking place here, so keep that in mind should you puzzle over Wardes' actions.

**Records of Change**

**Chapter 2**

Nineteenth Day of Brimir's Third Month

Today I informed my parents of my decision to marry Viscount Wardes. Father was proud of me, if overly doting about his baby girl growing up. The best word to describe Mother was accepting. I can feel her measuring me with every gaze. The thoughts behind her eyes elude me, but the gaze itself does not press down with disapproval. I can take solace in that fact.

A letter was sent to my sister Eleanor to inform her and call her back for a visit. While I was anxious about my meeting with Mother I am more cautious about sister Eleanor. On the one hand she has always been as demanding of me as Mother; just with far less restraint. Meeting whatever storm she brings with her will be a task worthy of any heroine. Yet, on the other hand my eldest sister is an accomplished academic. Securing what aid she can give me in my research could prove useful. It will be imperative to convince Eleanor to help me rather than teach me. This is a foreign field and technically I have the most experience in it. If she comes with the attitude of my former teachers she will be of little use. Wish me luck future scribe.

I was able to meet with sister Cattleya today. The joy of my time with her was blemished only somewhat by her pale skin. Yesterday she had been bedridden, taken by a sudden downturn in her vitality. At least she seems to once again be on the mend, for however long that shall last. I remember when I was young I used to imagine becoming a mage so great I could cure Cattleya with one hand while holding off an elf invasion with the other. Even now that childish spark is preserved within me; unable to be squelched even by all the pressures of the world.

Recurring Experiments:

Experiment 1: Largest Explosion

Result: 18' across exactly. As with my round of experiments Kirche Zerbst's memory produces significant ire with which to increase my spell's power. It seems that harder emotions of frustration, anger, and the like produce larger explosions.

Experiment 2: Smallest Explosion

Result: 5' 2" across. Similar smaller explosions were all created under soft emotional states. Thinking fondly of Cattleya or Wardes had the best results.

Experiment 3: Furthest Explosion

Result: Once again my range is set at 50' roughly. Perhaps Eleanor might have some insight on my onetime range increase.

Experiment 4: Accuracy Test

Result: 12 in 20 overlaps once more with a neutral mindset, although my aim was still relatively close under other forced emotional states. Most mages simply 'feel' their magic and move it like one would a limb. In truth I have never felt such a sensation. Tomorrow I shall pursue alternate points of view.

Unique Test: Delayed Spell

Result: A fire mage can keep a ball of fire still in the air, holding their spell after chant with little effort. With that in mind I set about holding an explosion just before letting it loose. As usual I chanted and summoned my magic, yet this time I kept a tight grip on the spell. Holding the explosion at max range I felt fine at first. However, within seconds I felt a draining sensation. Like my gut was being sucked out of me at an exponentially increasing rate. Moments after, I lost myself to a dizzy spell and nearly fell over. The result was sobering in its destruction. 40' 4" across and nearly five feet deep. I transformed the forest clearing I had been using for practice into one single crater.

The trees did not block the sound of an explosion that size and Mother was quick to investigate. Rather than angry or frightful, as soon as she knew I was unharmed she had me repeat the exercise. While it was momentarily tiring, I found I could repeat the event without problem. According to Mother the "drain sickness" is created by a mage using too much willpower at once. Usually a chant is used to draw the willpower out over time. Only practiced mages could handle that much willpower in that little time. I have decided to incorporate delay practice into my largest explosion tests.

Mother also said that most mages my age did not have the willpower reserves to use enough at once for "drain sickness" to be an issue. Having a high willpower reserve is good news I suppose. Mother wasn't disappointed, which is about as close to proud as she gets.

Twentieth Day of Brimir's Third Month

The wedding is in two weeks. I know that my father is not the type to waste time, but I am still taken aback by such brevity. Of course I understand the reasoning behind the date, I am no dolt to whom the intricacies of aristocratic society must be explained. By switching the gossip of the day from my withdraw from the academy to my impending wedding, the Valliere name shall save face.

Father has invited a fair number of his military associates, each familiar with Wardes and his accomplishments. The higher class nobles shall nod and commend my Father's honor at making good on his promise in short order. Meanwhile, the lower class shall look to Wardes as one raising his rank through merit. Add that to Princess Henrietta's assured attendance and all shall be too preoccupied to even contemplate my unfinished education; or me for that matter.

Upon reflection the whole affair is rather convenient. That word, convenient, is not a word with which a bride should describe her wedding day. Yet, as I sit here writing I am unable to describe it any other way. The wedding shall be as small as possible without offending the royal guest and the majority of the guests will be family and my father's associates. Honestly, I feel like a cog in a clever contraption rather than the centerpiece in a grand work of art.

At least there will be cake. I do favor sweets.

Experiment 1: Largest Explosion

Result: 17' 8". With all the trepidation of the coming days, I am unable to conjure fury in sufficient quantity. Still it should be noted that this width exceeds my previous attempts under anxious mindsets.

Experiment 2: Smallest Explosion

Result: 4' 10". Perhaps my worry of the impending wedding is helpful in this much at least.

Experiment 3: Furthest Explosion

Result: 50' roughly. The frustration I feel dealing with this limit might aid with experiment one. I shall consult Eleanor before adjusting my experiments however.

Experiment 4: Accuracy Test

Result: 10 in 20 overlaps. I half wonder if my accuracy is purely luck. The advice of my Father and Mother on the subject was sadly lacking. I simply cannot feel my magic as they describe.

Unique Test: Drain Sickness Testing

Result: With yesterday's lesson in mind I set about testing how long I could delay my spell before the drain sickness set in. By releasing after roughly a 3 second hold I can create a 30' crater without a bout of drain sickness. I shall consult Mother on how to get around this limitation

Twenty-First Day of Brimir's Third Month

It is not news to me that I was without friends at the academy. Though my pride propped me up when my will crumbled from self-doubt, I was never so blind that I did not see myself standing alone. Regardless I must invite a classmate to my wedding. A single friend will be taken as a show of respect to a trusted confidant. No classmates will spread the rumor of my solidarity. As such I have come to a conclusion on who to invite.

Though I have no friend to call; I do have a sufficient replacement, Tabitha the Blizzard. Though I would hardly call the stoic girl and myself close, she never once mocked me. She might be the only classmate of mine who never did. Though she hails from Gallia and her lack of family name marks her as a bastard she has gained the title of Chevalier through merit alone, making her a fine addition to the military toned wedding. I can only hope she will accept my invitation, she never seemed one to be cowed by social standing and I doubt even the Valliere name will sway her.

On another matter I spoke with a one of my father's hunters today. As a commoner he was rather nervous with my inquiries into archery, but he was helpful in spite of such caution. I shall make a note to inform father to reward the man. In regards to my inquiries, I thought perhaps an archer might have a useful perspective on my lackluster accuracy as his senses end where his hand meets the bow. Of course I did not tell him of my intentions, a noble must never show weakness to their subjects, but that hardly hindered what insight I could glean from the man.

According to the hunter the most basic fundamentals of the bow boil down to repetition of movement. By following the same steps over and over, eventual one's body fires the arrow almost of its own volition. Aiming at the target only comes after one can fire the bow properly. I shall tone down the man's romanticism of his craft, but the idea of setting a routine to follow and only making slight alterations is a sound one.

Experiment 1: Largest Explosion

Result: 19' 2" under a calm mindset. 40' with a delayed hold. I cannot tell if I am becoming more powerful or simply gaining more control over how much force I exert. Regardless my explosions grow with each passing day.

Experiment 2: Smallest Explosion

Result: 4' 11" under a distracted mindset. The slower pace of progress on experiment 2 irks me, which quickly leads to a mindset counter to progress. Truly a vicious cycle.

Experiment 3: Furthest Explosion

Result: 50'. I shall not deal with this tonight. Frustration shall hinder experiment 4.

Experiment 4: Accuracy Test

Result: 28 in 40 overlaps. It should be noted the majority of my successes came later in the experiment. It seems the hunter's words will prove valuable if not invaluable.

Unique Test: Blind Casting

Result: I shall note it is good I practice in the solitude of the forest, as it would have been most embarrassing for by giddy giggle to be heard. On the surface the experiment to test simply following the steps of aiming while blindfolded failed as I missed the target. However, I missed the target by 50'. Beyond it. I cast a spell at a range of 80' simply by blindfolding myself. Tis likely my range problems lie in my psyche, more testing shall be required.

Twenty-Second Day of Brimir's Third Month

A letter arrived from Professor Colbert today. At first I thought the man had sent his reply to his wedding invitation with impossible haste, but upon opening said letter I realize he simply must have sent it before receiving any invitation. In his usual poor penmanship, the man began with his usual honest kindness. Even in letter format I can feel his naive aura.

The body of the letter was quite fascinating in truth. Within the Professor detailed the behavior of mundane explosions under a variety of circumstances. Though a fair amount of formulae are beyond me, I can make some sense of them. This leads me to believe with a little effort my mathematical aptitude shall be up to the task. He even listed common uses of black-powder, a mundane substance used in muskets and mining. Of course it wouldn't be Mr. Colbert without a diagram of some gadget that could use the minute explosions as a power source. I shall refrain from commenting that a simple enchantment would accomplish the same task in my reply. That man's curiosity is both his greatest feature and worst flaw.

My letter of thanks is already away and I have added mathematics to my self study routine. Even should the Professor's lead prove false, an improved understanding of numbers shall only help should I need to manage Wardes' accounts while he is away.

My cheeks redden at the thought of married life. The date approaches and my heart seems to beat faster with each passing moment.

Experiment 1: Largest Explosion

Result: 21' normal, 48' with a delayed hold. Both tests done with an excited heart. My exuberant thoughts of married life have filled me with vigor this evening.

Experiment 2: Smallest Explosion

Result: 6'. As expected my state of mind simply ruins my control.

Experiment 3: Furthest Explosion

Result: 50' normally, 98' with closed eyes. I am perplexed at this odd limitation, more testing is needed.

Experiment 4: Accuracy Test

Result: 15 in 20 overlaps. If I ever mention how much a commoner helped me with magic in the wrong company I shall surely become a laughing stock. Still, if by that time I am under full control of this power people might think twice about openly mocking me.

Unique Test: Delayed Subterranean Explosion

Result: Before you roll your eyes future scribe know I took sufficient safety precautions. To test the limit of my destructive capabilities, I took my horse on a somewhat long journey to a cliff I know of. Though somewhat chaffed from the ride, I looked out over the lake with a determined mind. By casting a delayed spell blind and downward, I combined my previous individual experiments into one.

I doubt my horse shall ever forgive me for the result. The Cliff itself slid into the sea when I opened a roughly 130' crater in the side of it. I am lucky the top held long enough for me to beat a retreat or I might have gone for a swim. I suppose even if I never find another use for this magic, mining shall always be open to me.

Twenty-Third Day of Brimir's Third Month

Eleanor arrived home today. What followed tested my will beyond what I thought I could withstand. Her usual more physical reprimands of me were luckily unavailable in the presence of Mother. Sadly Mother offered little help in the ensuing debate; surely yet another of her tests.

At first Eleanor would not hear a word of what I had to say, but when she questioned why I was being so petulant I responded with frustrated honesty. Simply put, I need her help. My eldest sister's ego is quite inflated, righteously so in some lights even. I was sure to bring up how she graduated top of her class and is a well regarded researcher while she paused. The praise stilled her anger long enough for me to show the research portions of my journal and in particular mention how, odd as my magic is, it _is_ a new field of magic.

That much was enough to raise Eleanor's curiosity. She even admitted she had viewed my magical issues as a problem to solve rather than a phenomenon to research in the past. As with Mother I think she is withholding judgment for now as she plans to observe my experiments tonight.

As a side note it is good to see Eleanor again. She has always been a weight upon me, crushing me down. Yet I know this is simply because she wants me strong enough to lift said weight. Growing up with a Mother such as mine and peers akin to jackals from school has given me insight into the difference between harsh love and simple cruelty.

Experiment 1: Largest Explosion

Result: 15' normal, 25' delayed. With Eleanor's eyes on my back even as I write this I feel anxiety is the only emotion I can conjure. Please do not take offense elder sister, one must be honest when it comes to research notes.

Experiment 2: Smallest Explosion

Result: 5'. I would have hoped my aforementioned anxiety to be a boon in this experiment, but no such luck.

Experiment 3: Furthest Explosion

Result: 50', 94' blind. I am still perplexed by this.

Experiment 4: Accuracy Test

Result: 17 in 20 overlaps. My increasing accuracy is nice. Knowledge that Eleanor is about to read my notes on the hunter's assistance is frightening. Results before pride, right elder sister?

Unique Test: Blind Small Explosion

Result: In the spirit of yesterday's experiment, I used a previous test in a new way. With eyes closed I was able to reduce my minimum width to 3' 2". Another step of progress!

Twenty-Fourth Day of Brimir's Third Month

As cliche' a beginning as this is, today was a good day. Eleanor was far more interested in reprimanding me for my poor experimentation protocols than reprimanding me for leaving school. The difference lies in how useful these reprimands are. Mentions of control tests, more detailed measurements, data charts, and other terms I'm not sure I understood were tossed about. After it became apparent how over my head I was, Eleanor spent the majority of the day constructing a research log with me and showing me how to track progress and summarize findings to mail her when she returned to her academy.

That in itself is a wonderful boon. Now I have both an expert in mundane sciences with Professor Colbert and Eleanor's expertise in magical theory to rely on. Though I swear my mind aches from exertion, I feel like my plan is taking real form now. Tonight I shall be skipping my unique experiment in favor of hands on lessons of data recording with Eleanor. I shall still keep my basic observation in this journal for convenience when I look over past days for patterns. My more detailed recordings shall be contained to the research journal.

Experiment 1: Largest Explosion

Result: 20' normal, 45' delayed. Careful mindset.

Experiment 2: Smallest Explosion

Result: 5' normal, 3' 1" blind. Annoyed mindset at my supposed errors in recording.

Experiment 3: Furthest Explosion

Result: 50' normal, 93' blind. Frustrated mindset at lack of improvement.

Experiment 4: Accuracy Test

Result: 17 in 20 overlaps, this time with a tighter cluster. It is not beyond reason to assume my accuracy could reach near perfect eventually. Should this happen I shall hopefully have extended my range enough to move the target further from me.

Eleanor believes my range and minimization problems might be visualization in nature as once I am forced to purely visualize the result both aspects improve. I shall make a plan to test this, but for now I am rather exhausted. A certain feather bed calls for me.

Twenty-Fifth Day of Brimir's Third Month

I shall begin with the good news. Tabitha's reply came today. The girl is as succinct in writing as she is in spoken word. A simple thanks and acceptance formed the majority of the letter. If that were it everything would have been fine. My reservation comes from the one superfluous comment on the parchment naming Tabitha's guest. I knew the two were close friends, I just didn't expect this.

Kirche von Zerbst.

I shall put that name all on its own as it would simply taint nearby words with its vile origin. The Zerbst was perhaps my most bitter enemy in school. Regardless of the issue our opposing spirits could not help but conflict. Where as I value dignity, she flaunts her lack of tact. Where as I have honor, she dallies with any boy she fancies. And honestly; where as I am abysmal at magic, she is a triangle class mage. It irks me to no end that someone like her who flies in the face of tradition can accomplish so much so easily.

If that weren't enough she is of the Zerbst family, a longstanding enemy of the Vallieres. With lands just across the Germanian border to ours, whenever a war breaks out blood is exchanged and the hate grows deeper. Now, at my wedding, a Zerbst shall come and sit with my entire extended family, the elder of which have had loved-ones killed at the hands of a Zerbst. To put my recently gained knowledge of black-powder to use; it is like a keg of the volatile powder sitting amidst a sea of flame.

So I sit here thinking of the best way to explain this to my parents. A momentous task if ever there was one. I cannot simply deny Kirche. To offer another a place to stay, even indirectly, and rescind it without due cause would break the founder's law of hospitality. Committing one of the great sins on my own wedding day? Even were I not as pious as I am, such a thing would demolish my reputation and my family's by association. So that simply leaves planning on how to best keep Kirche in line and out of trouble. As if my wedding wasn't already lackluster, now it is stressful as well.

Experiment 1: Largest Explosion

Result: 23' normal, 50' delayed. My ever increasing power is both encouraging and foreboding. As always harder emotions produce stronger results.

Experiment 2: Smallest Explosion

Result: See Unique

Experiment 3: Furthest Explosion

Result: See Unique

Experiment 4: Accuracy Test

Result: 19 in 20 overlaps. I feel confident with my accuracy at 30' ranges now. I shall increase the range once I can get 20 in 20.

Unique Test: Visualization Practice

Results: Rather than experiment with range and minimization today, I instead focused on some visualization exercises Eleanor taught me. Supposedly adjusting runes on small objects such as rings requires rather esoteric methods. Specifically I am to imagine objects and increase their detail with ever increasing magnification until I am thinking of the bristles on an arrow's feather for instance. Tis not a practice that shows immediate results, so I shall take a week to perform the exercise in lieu of unique experiments.

Twenty-Sixth Day of Brimir's Third Month

I fear my muscles may rebel against me. I will be a sorry sight should they refuse to move on my wedding day. Yet, despite my aching body I do feel a sense of accomplishment. To explain, I went to my Mother today and asked for advice circumventing drain sickness. As she explained, it was simply something that would go away with time. Either naturally as my magic matured, or through the effort of repeated exposure. Even the later would take significant time according to her. I was quick to point out previous established standards do not necessarily hold true to my magic, a point she acquiesced.

After some thought my Mother suggest a roundabout solution. Drain sickness was more a sensation than any real danger in and of itself. By improving my physical vitality I might simply resist it, if only in small quantities. I'll admit the look in her eyes when she came to the conclusion instilled a sense of trepidation in my heart I am most certain a mouse feels when spied by a cat. Trapped within her claws, I had could only accept her proposal.

Thus I spent a fair portion of the day learning fencing from my Mother. In recent years the use of sword-wands has fallen from popularity, but both my Mother and husband to be are experienced fencers. The practice sword-wand was far heavier in my hand than my wand, despite its relatively light weight compared to the more common long sword. That minor annoyance was soon forgotten as the number upon my body grew. If Mother is a strict parent, she is a nightmare of an instructor.

Still, one can hardly ask for a better trainer in a military art than Karin of the Heavy wind. Besides, it was actually rather nice to spend time with Mother. Whether that is because I know I will soon leave her or not I do not know. All I can know is that I enjoyed the lesson.

Experiment 1: Largest Explosion

Result: 10' normal, was unable to delay. If there is ever a need for evidence of the link between vitality and spell power, look no further than this journal. In my exhausted state I can hardly produce a spell let alone adjust its size.

Experiment 2: Accuracy Test

Result: 12 in 20 overlaps. I would be annoyed, but managing twenty spells despite my withering energy is an accomplishment in and of itself.

Visualization Practice:

My throbbing muscles and the pang of my bruises drew my thoughts until I simply directed my mind to imagining said bruises down to the slightest discoloration. A note: I realize my mother was careful to not bruise any part that would not be covered by my wedding dress. I shall have to impress restrain upon her in the days to come. I'd rather not be bruised _at all_ on my wedding day.

Twenty-Seventh Day of Brimir's Third Month

Though I used yesterday's fencing lesson as an excuse to delay informing my Father of the Zerbst guest to be, I could delay no longer. Cattleya has often said father has two faces. That of our Papa, and that of the Father of our family. When there is no business to be done his restraint wanes in favor of warm embraces and happy smiles. Yet this day and the days to come I doubt I shall see anything other than the face of our Father. With calm reflection, he took the news. I swear I could see the cogs working behind his eyes as his mind flew through every possible outcome. Said plans were not shared with me, rather he just nodded accepted the news with only minor reservations.

My Mother on the other hand, I think I actually saw her smirk! I am reminded that it is my Father that is the Valliere by birth, and that my Mother married into a family of in-laws she does not particularly favor. A chance to watch those whose worth she questions writhe in Kirche's vile light. I think she will enjoy it. I shall mark it now for posterity's sake. My mother showed a selfish emotion. Not something for the sake of the family, nor simply an instinct from her military days. No, Mother enjoyed something on some primal level. At the very least Kirche's attendance has granted me this small gift. Just in case it was in question future scribe, my Mother is human. This evidence proves it.

Experiment 1: Largest Explosion

Result: 20' normal, 25' delayed. Though fencing practice was lighter today, I am still worn from the experience.

Experiment 2: Accuracy Test

Result: 14 in 20 overlaps. A notable improvement under exhausted conditions.

Visualization Practice: In honor of the hunter who aided me I have been imagining a bow today. The only problem is I realize I have forgotten the man's name and the shortcoming distracts my mind. I know it is not my duty to remember every commoner's name, but I owe this man a debt whether he knows it or not. Upon review of my journal I have found I never once wrote it down. I know I should not worry over a commoner, yet this ill feeling plagues me.

Twenty-Eighth Day of Brimir's Third Month

My heart flutters like a dove. Wardes arrived in secret today. I heard his griffon cry upon the wind and knew he was here. With some simple excuse I secreted away to out meeting place by a small creek. Sure enough my betrothed waited for me. His handsome face was marred by reserved worry, a feeling quickly reflected in my own heart. He pressed he was delighted to see me, but had to make sure I was not forced into this marriage. If I had any doubts he was a good man before, they are gone from my heart now. I am a wife far beyond any he could hope for otherwise, yet he seeks my happiness first. Truly, despite all the ill that befalls me I only need to look to Wardes to know that Brimir's light ever shields me.

Wardes, or Jacques as he presses me to call him, only relented when I assured him that I made the decision on my own. As worry changed to happiness, we conversed in our hidden grove. Both his hopes of the days to come, and the human like worry of the approaching wedding he shares with me ease my own trembling spirit. My time at school may have dulled the memories, but here with him I remember he can calm me like no one else can. Jacques always knows just what to say.

Experiment 1: Largest Explosion

Result: 20' normal, unable to delay. A certain silver haired troll has seen fit to make silly calls whenever I try concentrating. As such I am unable to delay spells and will have to resort to vocal reprimands.

Experiment 2: Accuracy Test

Result: 6 in 20 overlaps. The previously mentioned troll hides behind the excuse that one is always distracted on the battlefield. I am not falling for the feeble defense. He can wait until I'm done.

Visualization Practice:

Do I really have to explain why this exercise was an impossible endeavor tonight?

Twenty-Ninth Day of Brimir's Third Month

I get the feeling Wardes' hidden early arrival wasn't so hidden as the maids already had prepared a room for him when he "arrived" early this morning. That, and father monopolized his time today. No doubt taking my poor fiance' on some hunt to have male bonding time mixed with veiled threats to treat me properly. Though free of Wardes, my thoughts still lingered on him. Specifically him being here has reminded me of what happens on a wedding night.

Of course I know what happens. Also, I am _not_ just writing idle impure fancies in this journal. Yet it is important to note my trepidation. No, I shall be honest. I am afraid. The entire subject matter is just, well, its embarrassing, frightening, and all together just a mess. Not to mention the first time is supposed to be quite painful. As if it wasn't already enough of a trial.

I initially made the mistake of seeking advice on the matter. Or rather, a series of mistakes. First I went to Cattleya. For all my sister's kindness and warmth she is no more experienced in the subject matter than I am. The assurances that followed were positively laden with the romanticism of Cattleya's books. I pretended she helped as I did not want to hurt Cattleya's earnest feelings. If nothing else it is always nice to know she cares.

My second choice for advice was hardly better. By the time I realized that I was implying my unmarried eldest sister was not pure, I had finished my plea for advice. Under her wilting gaze I think I may have descended into a temporary state of insanity in my desperation to escape her wrath. It was only by the grace of repeating how much I value her advice and how my fears had stunted my forethought did I escape damnation. She spoke only two words, "Ask Mother." Sound advice I supposed at the time.

Mother was, well I shall put it simply. She is very direct about these matters. "It will hurt worse than a snake bite, but less than getting run through by a minotaur horn." I quote her because now I am wondering when she was gored by a minotaur and how is she still alive? Of course she was quick to mention duty and such; not anything I didn't know and of little use. Truthfully, I think mother hid behind the easy answers. Perhaps she was uncomfortable with the questioning?

Experiment 1: Largest Explosion

Result: 26' normal, 59' delayed. Fencing practice is light in preparation for the wedding. Without that exhaustion or a distraction I have set a new record.

Experiment 2: Accuracy Test

Result: 20 in 20 overlaps. My first perfect set. If I repeat this feat tomorrow I shall extend the target range form 30' to 50'.

Visualization Practice:

Though I am unsure how much this exercise truly helps, it is calming enough so I shall continue to trust in Eleanor's advice. Tomorrow I shall resume minimization and range experiments.

Thirtieth Day of Brimir's Third Month

Between the manor, the guesthouses, and the nearby inn we have more than enough room to house all attending the wedding. The word convenient once again creeps into my mind as I look over the seating charts. Between my Father and Mother's advice I have no real say in any of the plans. Simply put, they are always right. Whether this cousin sit next to his former comrade from the knights, or to put these two bothers on opposing ends to prevent a brawl; the two are always right. Rather than comforting, it feels infuriating to once again be a cog.

That lack of volition followed me throughout the day. My one spark of solace came from Jacques. After watching my fencing practice with my Mother he offered to continue my lessons when I follow him back to the Capital. That man watched me practice a most unladylike craft and enjoyed it simply because it made me happy. Even if my wedding is a shadow of a dream, my future shines with the promise of happiness.

Experiment 1: Largest Explosion

Result: 32' normal, 59' delayed.

Experiment 2: Smallest Explosion

Result: 5' normal, 1' 8" blind. It seems the visualization practice payed off. Though I can only maintain the level of concentration required with my eyes closed, I still made noticeable improvement. I'll focus on performing the feat with eyes open in the future.

Experiment 3: Furthest Explosion

Result: 96' normal, 95' blind. A breakthrough, I must simply visualize the horizon where my target is and my range has improved almost twice over.

Experiment 4: Accuracy Test

Result: 20 in 20 overlaps. I am faced with the decision of how far to set future targets. After some consideration I will set targets at 80'. Near the edge of my range but close enough no misses will be due to fluctuations in range.

Unique Test: Sword-Wand Spells

With visualization practice confined to experiments 2 and 3 I have resumed my varied experiments. Using my practice sword-wand I ran through experiments 1-4. To summarize all results were of lower quality. Factors from its weight throwing off my movements to the metal medium of the foci could have weakened the results. I'll look into foci effects in the future.

Thirty-First Day of Brimir's Third Month

I think my father noticed my sighs today, though I doubt he can discern what is causing them. A letter from Professor Colbert arrived, withdrawing his commitment to attend my wedding. That alone would elicit one, perhaps two sighs from me, but the reasoning behind his withdrawal is what truly bothered me.

Apparently a thief broke into the school vault and stole the Staff of Destruction by breaking the outer wall. Of course such an event would hold Colbert back, I do not blame him. No, the reason I am troubled is because I cannot help but remember the cracks I put into the walls of the tower on my first day of experimentation. Cracks just outside the school vault. Of course the damage was repaired, but what if my magic had somehow weakened the wards? That wall should have stood against even a square class mage.

My fears are most likely baseless, and as such I have commissioned a stone target from Eleanor. I may have played the part of selfish bride a bit strongly, but I got Eleanor to agree to place the strongest wards she could on a stone target for me to practice on. Ostensibly to measure destructive force, but in truth I want to check my spell's effect on wards.

Unique Test: Stone Target

Results: The results of this test will explain the lack of any other experiments. Eleanor's target shattered under the first of my spells. I have never seen her so put out. It took several more trials before she would confidently say my spell was disrupting her wards. We went on to test my spells on a golem she was actively controlling. While still more effective than Eleanor believes they should be, there is a sharp decline in 'dispelling' properties when another mage is actively supplying willpower to my target.

I was able to rebuff Eleanor's inquiries into why I was pursuing these experiments for the time being, but I do not believe I fooled her. My sister is simply allowing me some time to gather my thoughts. The wedding is in just a few days and now I have this to deal with. I shall ask for Mother's advice tomorrow.

First Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

After explaining the situation of the thief to Mother I was surprised to find myself _not_ in trouble. More, Mother was insistent I focus on the wedding and that she would take care of the situation. She mumbled something about old contacts and favors before ordering me to focus on the wedding. I hesitate to guess, but I think my mother is doting on me. Fixing one of my problems while telling me to enjoy myself in a roundabout way. I am unsure what to think of this.

I was able to pursue the issue during fencing practice. Not while I was fencing; oh no, then I was too busy defending against the threat of bruises on my wedding day. No, twas after my fiance' stepped in for a friendly duel. The fact that Mother accepted the request meant her blood was boiling. Not with anger, no the subtle upturn of her lip spoke of a warrior who just unsheathed a dusty blade. I fear for the thief.

To note the duel, I can happily say my fiance' held his own quite well, even if he did lose in the end. Of course the two were not using spells. Such a battle would be a sight to behold I am sure, but the resulting devastation might put my practice field of craters to shame.

Experiment 1: Largest Explosion

Result: 35' normal, 79' delayed. Too be frank my delayed explosions are becoming frightening in power.

Experiment 2: Smallest Explosion

Result: 4'3" normal, 1' 1" blind. Improvement on both counts!

Experiment 3: Furthest Explosion

Result: 92'. Some improvement. I shall see if my range increases before devising new strategies.

Experiment 4: Accuracy Test

Result: 1 in 20 overlaps. At 80' my accuracy plummeted. Still, it is just another step in improvement.

Unique Test: Shape Alteration

Results: As a normal mage may shape their element in countless ways, I set about altering the shape of my explosion from a sphere to an oval. Sadly, even with visualization I was unsuccessful in any of my numerous attempts.

Added thought: I have transformed this clearing in the forest into a miniature wasteland. When I move to the Capital finding a proper training ground will be of utmost importance.

Second Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

With the wedding tomorrow Guests arrived in droves today. By horse, wagon, and even dragon they arrived; and all paled in comparison to the unicorn led carriage of Princes Henrietta. When the formalities were over she invited me to retreat to the gardens with her under the pretense of consulting with the bride. The truth however was somewhat less formal.

Once alone she reached out to me not as her subject, but as the playmate of her youth. The warmth of my closest friend eased my trembling nerves and her happiness for me permeated my soul. The subject of marriage drew pauses from her, yet she would not confide in me why. No doubt she is just uneasy about my marriage before her. I smirk childishly as I write this. Certain memories of two young girls battling over whom will marry first and with whom come to mind.

We stayed together as long as we could without drawing attention before I was forced to return to the guests and make the rounds with Jacques. As I was forced to go though old mnemonics to remember the extended family, Jacques commented on my commitment to the Princess. Of course he knows how close we are, I have confided a great many things in the man. That same man enjoyed teasing me about split loyalties between himself and the crown. I had to get serious and stomp down on that teasing right away. I know my betrothed enjoys teasing me, but the crown is sacrament and loyalties aren't to be joked about. I may have come down too harshly, as he was withdrawn for some time after that, but if this is the worst of our squabbles I am in for a prosperous married life.

There is one more thing to note before I close in preparation for the wedding tomorrow. Tabitha and Kirche arrived somewhat late in the day. Though Kirche received glares from every other guests, the hate ran off her like water off a duck's back. Honestly, I respect that unbending will. My ability to compliment her most likely comes from the short time we spoke. Beyond the expected pleasantries that I actually didn't expect Kirche to follow, Kirche thanked me.

Not for herself; no, I doubt either of us know where we stand with each other after today. Rather, Kirche thanked me for inviting Tabitha. The silent girl spent half the festivities reading off to the side and getting fawned over by a surprising amount of the military lads. She didn't exactly seem happy to be here, but Kirche assured me she was. Kirche confided, yes confided, in me that despite Tabitha's prodigious ability others at school still thought themselves better than her by right of birth. Inviting Tabitha and no one else legitimized her to a degree. I hardly put that much thought into it, but I still accepted the thanks with what grace I could.

I spent the morning with the Princess, met three different generals, I am getting married tomorrow, and all I can think of is that I had a civil, pleasant even, conversation with Kirche von Zerbst.

With Mother's permission I postponed experiments on the eve of my wedding and a few nights to follow on the condition the end date be moved back an equal amount of days.

Third Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

I shall begin this entry by explaining an old tradition and if it is old to me future scribe it could be ancient to you. On the wedding night the husband and wife much each bathe separately then pray to the founder for no less than half an hour. By dedicating themselves first to him they can become as one in his sight. Such a tradition is hardly followed anymore, but it is known of. I explain this because Wardes is currently bathing and shall spend the next half hour praying.

In truth I feel slightly guilty abusing my pious reputation and his accepting attitude to gain a moment of alone time to gather myself. To say I am nervous would be a grievous understatement. Only by putting words to paper do I feel any ease. So, I shall detail my wedding for you oh future scribe while I wait for my turn to bathe.

The ceremony was beautiful. Small, and even somewhat simple, but the Valliere servants are masters of their craft and what the scene lacked in gravitas it made up for in elegance. If one were to go out to the tea gardens one might find them devoid of a single flower as I believe the maids picked every last one for the grand floral wreaths that hung above. Brimir granted us with a blue sky and warm sun. My dress, oh my dress was perfect. I think I shall have to make another entry in the future just to explain how beautiful I was. In that moment I did not worry over my failings or fret over my future. With my family at my back and my future before me, I was truly happy.

Also there was cake. It was delicious. I shall have to ask after which cook prepared it.

The party after had its fair share of troubles carefully averted by the gentle command of Father and in one case the not so gentle order of my Mother. I shall have to thank Kirche for showing unexpected restraint through out the wedding. I think she was more worried about supporting Tabitha than making a scene besides. The poor Chevalier was actually accumulating more suitors than Kirche. I shall remember that sight for years to come.

Also, when I thank Kirche I shall also condemn the girl for her gift. Upon opening it not one hour ago I nearly died from embarrassment. Tis a book, but not some nice novel like Tabitha's gift, "The Hero of Ivaldi." No, tis a book written in the flamboyant scrawl of the Zerbst on _intimate_ positions a married couple can engage in. The few notes I spied in the margins lead me to believe this is an adapted journal of her conquests! I know Kirche is experienced in these matters but this is hardly appropriate! Still, this first chapter on first times might be somewhat useful to read before Jacques returns. Excuse me diary, I have some quick studying to do.

A/N: Wow Louise, you sure are happy. It would be such a shame if someone, I don't know, used the Princess's trust in you to maneuver themselves into a perfect position to commit treason.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Just to be clear. When Louise breaks for "Experimentation:" She has written, then gone off to experiment that evening, then come back to finish her entry. Not sure If I was clear enough. Also I found a good way to nix the more super detailed measurements. It was a good way to start, showing the growth with limited words while building atmosphere. To continue would kill pacing for no good reason.

Records of Change

Chapter 3

Fourth Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

Ouch. I begin with that simple word of exclamation as it has been threatening to leave my lips all day. Since I am a proper lady I shall be brief in my notation of last night's event. It hurt. Honestly, quite a lot. However I can take solace in that at least according to Kirche's "advice", Jacques did try his best for me. And yes future scribe that is all you shall get. I am Louise Wardes not some sultry tavern wench.

The reason I am still sore this day is because I foolishly made the comment of how I wished I could see our home _today._ Now, the Capital is a two days by carriage; but, as my husband pointed out, one day by griffon. I know I dug my own grave, but his naive insistence on pleasing me without thought did not help. I said my goodbyes to my family without even once thinking of what sitting legs split over a griffons saddle would do to my tender nethers. I cried saying goodbye to Cattleya, but oh I wish I could have cried during that flight.

I think my husband has gained an inkling as to what is bothering me, as he has become very reserved under my gaze and hesitates to comment on me bowlegged stride. Last night's activities a shall not be repeated tonight. No, now I shall sleep and dream of soft, cushy carriage rides.

Fifth Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

I have been to the Capital before, yet now that I live here the hustle and bustle feels entirely new. Lost in a sea of people I am reminded of moving into the school after spending a childhood on the relatively open Valliere estate. One cannot help but feel smaller in this grand city, a feeling not aided by my lacking stature.

Jacques gave me a local's tour of the city today. Apparently if one cuts through a side street you can go from the merchant's square to the tailor's district while bypassing the butchers all together. I saw everything from clever street performers to the most fashionable cafe I have ever laid eyes on. While the sense of unease in such a large place still fills me, excitement is rapidly dwarfing it.

At the end of out tour date Jacques took me to the Griffon Knights garrison to introduce me to his subordinates. Fine lads the lot of them; if only slightly uncouth with their jests to my husband. I was gracious enough to let it slide as they were in their own barracks. A certain amount of raw masculinity must be upheld in such places I am told. Besides, between you and me future scribe, it was nice being the object of their jealousy.

The day was so filled with wonder I realize now as I write this I have nowhere to practice my magic this eve. Well, tis still technically our honeymoon this night so the delay is permissible. Tomorrow I shall set a meeting with the Princess. A meeting with her will be most wonderful and give me a chance to ask her if she knows of any suitable locations. Between herself and her handmaidens I am sure their combined knowledge covers the entirety of he Capital and surrounding lands.

On a last note I am positively radiant at the prospect of living so close to Henrietta. As a Princess I dare not think I can drop in on her anytime, but on the rare occasions she has a break in her royal duties I shall be but a messenger away.

Sixth Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

A letter arrived by eagle today. Specifically Reginald, my father's familiar. Knowing father only parted from his trusted companion for messages best kept secret, I was beyond curious as to the contents. Inside was Mother's plain, painfully legible penmanship mentioning that the thief problem had been taken care of. A weight off my chest I suppose, but the woman did not even inquire as to how I was finding the Capital. In minor rebellion I sent a perfectly pleasant letter detailing my first day in the Capital.

Seeing as I was already writing, I also sent a letter to Professor Colbert; this one by a standard messenger. I explained to him my troubles of minimizing the destructive nature of my spells and expressed doubt his proposed invention could withstand the force. I also made sure to thank him for his wedding gift. The book on the chemistry and uses of blackpowder may have drawn a curious eye from my husband, but it was still a sweet thought coming from a man such as Professor Colbert.

Of course I was unable to meet with Princess Henrietta on such short notice today. However, I was fortunate enough to set a meeting for tomorrow. My husband teased me about running off to tell my friends about him so soon. I could sense the underlying hope beneath those jests and invited him along. It will be nice to introduce my husband to my best friend in a less formal setting than my wedding.

Tonight I shall return to the task of my magic. Even if experimentation is impossible for the time being. Visualization practice is not, nor is research into Eleanor's book on runes and wards.

Seventh Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

I think I may have met the commoner version of my Mother. Technically Agnes de Milan is a Chevalier and thus a noble, but she is no mage and lived the majority of her life as a commoner. So my point still stands. Clad in polished breastplate, armed with both gun and sword, and standing so straight I constantly wonder if I am slouching; she is the most intimidating commoner I have ever laid eyes on. Now, if she turned such a rigid will toward me I might have to rebuke her, but that iron woman is so obviously and staunchly loyal to Princess Henrietta she has quickly gained my respect.

To explain how I was left with such an impression, I shall detail my meeting with Princess Henrietta today. Twas a pleasant conversation over tea. My husband's charm quickly broke down the instinctual formality the Princess and I adopted in the presence of a third party. In no time at all we were chatting about simple pleasantries.

It was only after Jacques graciously excused himself that the conversation moved to a more somber note. The Princess will be marrying the Emperor of Germania. I cannot help but kick myself for not realizing why she had such reservations on the subject at my own wedding. Unlike my happy pairing, she has never met the man. No, this union is not for love, but for the alliance it will cement. I understand that joint protection is needed in the face of the Reconquista rebellion currently taking over Albion, but I my heart still bleeds for my friend.

Said pangs of regret only intensified when the Princess quickly moved the conversation back to my request for a training grounds. This is when I was introduced to Agnes de Milan. Though of commoner birth had not once ounce of demure subservience in her eyes as she greeted me. Only formal respect and a hard professionalism. I would expect no less of the Princesses handpicked personal bodyguard.

Said status of bodyguard is a station in flux actually. As the reason the Princess introduced us was to explain that Agnes was forming a commoner recruited musketeer squad. When Henrietta mentioned Agnes had asked for a mage to help practice was the only time I saw the woman's stone resolve tremble somewhat. The Princess was quick to pull out a blush from her bodyguard with praise of conviction as she explained our mutual needs. I needed a training field and Agnes needed a mage not adverse to being near commoners.

After bidding farewell to the Princess I spent most of the afternoon with Agnes. As the training grounds on the castle premises were reserved for the knight corps, we had to travel to the Capital outskirts where the Musketeer training grounds were located. Though it took some probing, I was able to pull out some information from Agnes as long as I framed it as a compliment to the Princess.

Not only are the Musketeers the Princess' personal guards, but her hand in more delicate matters as well. Simple bandit attacks or a lone orc are too lowly tasks to charge the knight corps with, yet the Princess cannot abandon her her people. Agnes has been previously tasked with such matters and after a particularly nasty fight with an orc she requested subordinates to aid in the tasks. Now I'm not sure if a commoner, and a woman no less, could stand a chance against an orc nearly thrice her size; but I will give Agnes the benefit of the doubt for now. She is no liar, I can see that much.

The grounds themselves will suffice. There are sound dampening wards on the perimeter to dull the musketfire. A boon for my own noise, but I shall have to take care not to destroy them with the dispelling aspects of my magic.

As for the Musketeers themselves? I observed their practice at Agnes' request. The seven women are skilled in both longsword and musket to be sure. It is etiquette that must be Agnes' true problem. They utterly loyal to their Captain, and utterly hopeless dealing with me. Half seem to fear my station and the other half subtly posture in rebellion against it. If they are to guard the Princess such behavior will not suffice. Hopefully time will ease some concerns.

Agnes de Milan. Carol. Ellie. Lily. Mirielle. Alice. Denise. Lise.

These women have helped me in my studies by lending their training grounds to me. I write their names so as not to forget them like the hunter before.

Experimentation:

As per Eleanor's advice I shall refrain from recording data outside my research journal to prevent confusion of data. Instead I shall summarize the night's activities. Size control, aim, and width all show marginal improvements; however, I am unable to attempt delayed explosions until I can speak with Agnes again. I am creating enough of a mess in her training field without adding hundred foot craters to it.

Eighth Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

Besides a morning fencing lesson with Jacques I have not seen the man all day. Getting back to leading the Griffon knights is eating much of his time. I took this free time to meet with our servants. Or servant rather. Stella is both our maid and cook. With a house this size a full staff is not needed mind you, I had just assumed more than a single woman could do such fine jobs on both fronts. My husband has an eye for talent I see.

With Stella taking care of the day to day household matters, I could only hold her for a short while before letting her return to her tasks. I think my questioning might have put her ill at ease. A noble doesn't really need to know a commoner's favorite places in the Capital. I just... I shall be honest future scribe, I feel a tad lonely this day. I must be to try and socialize with a commoner.

With so much free time I once again took to studying Professor Colbert's book on blackpowder. Particularly shaped mining charges. The man puts the most inane remarks in the margins. Useful to be sure, as certain terms mentioned are foreign me, but I can't tell if he meant to be so humorous when he compared blackpowder to a spoiled child.

Experimentation:

Experimentation was unique today. Rather than run through my usual experiments, I worked with Agnes to localize my destruction. I do believe she plans to turn my craters into a training exercise. She also inquired into how dangerous my explosions actually were and if I could use them mid exercise.

I actually had no answer for her. I've never seriously injured the students at school, yet I broke my own arm in my early experimentation. Why _did_ I never harm another student? At school I assumed it was the protective wards of the place shielding us, but the dispelling nature of my magic puts that theory to rest. As gruesome as the thought is, it still springs to mind. I must experiment on a living subject.

Ninth Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

Where as yesterday was a slow day of uneasy boredom. Today was far more eventful. The first stop of my shopping trip was a supply store for familiars. Serpents are a common enough familiar that mice must be purchased for food. Any commoner would find the idea ridiculous to _buy_ mice, but no mage is about to send their soul bound companion into the slums to act as a mouser. The cage of mice I bought will not be fed to any serpent however. They shall be my test subjects.

The second stop was a calculated expense. If I spent too little it would be an insult, too much and I would be seen as throwing money around to get what I want. No, I had to buy a gift for Agnes that would show my respect for her help and nothing more. The hope was to endear myself to the Musketeers through their loyalty to Agnes. At first I thought to buy her armor, yet I was surprised to learn armor prices far exceed those of swords. Nothing within an acceptable price range would match Agnes' castle forged breastplate. My second option was much more acceptable. While perusing swords to confirm such uprising price discrepancies I cam across the most curious artifact. A talking sword.

Never before have I seen such an odd enchantment. The complexity of imbuing sentience (or false sentience even) into an object boggles the mind, and never mind how utterly useless such magic would be in battle. Yet Derflinger, as the sword demands to be called, is quite the novelty. Though crude in both rusted appearance and uncouth attitude, I decided Derflinger would make a fine gift.

Indeed, when I presented the blade to Agnes I do believe I saw her crack a smile. The sword was quite happy to have a "true swordsmain's grip" enveloping him and even happier when she remarked he was actually a good blade beneath all the rust. A well timed if rather inappropriately sexual joke from Derflinger quickly brought jeers and laughter from the other Musketeers.

With that small gap in their defense I was able to spend some time inquiring into the girls' pasts. Though I am not one of them, I do believe their fear and animosity are fading.

Experimentation:

Experimentation this night was quite the failure. I could not do it future scribe. Mice should not be this cute, tis a crime. Lise's snickers did not help in the _slightest_ mind you. I think I preferred that woman when she was bowing and calling me "Lady Valler." Still, Mirielle was quite nice about the ordeal. She is right you know, tis never wrong to spare a life.

Though experimentation failed miserably. Afterwards I was invited to share a drink with the Musketeers. Propriety be damned I needed the company. The swill was terrible, but I do believe I like these women. As common women they have been told they cannot fight. To that they raise their muskets and reply with resounding defiance. Just as they refuse to accept their limitations, so shall I.

Tenth Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

The Princess has asked something of Jacques. Though he is tight lipped about the mission, I can tell it is dangerous. For a brash man such as he to be worrying to such a visible degree fills my heart with fright. All day he has begun asking me vague questions about how I stand with him, and how the future is unsure. He looks off to the horizon from our window as a man looking to a future filed with peril.

I told him to refuse whatever this request was. If a task chills even him with unease, tis surely suicide. I can talk to the Princess, find some other candidate for whatever this is. He can quit the Griffon Knights if he must. He is my husband, his place is _with me_. Father will take some coaxing, but he could set aside some lands for us to manage early. A farming village out on the country where we could be together. I told Wardes we needed no glory nor status, just each other.

When he looked at me I could tell his mind had been made up. The foolish man will not run from any task. His honor is too great to allow him to flee. That cursed man had better return to me.

Experimentation:

I am not sure whether to thank Lise or scream at her. She thought scaring me with a rat during my practice would help me overcome my inability to kill them. She thought scaring me mid chant was the right was to go about it. What she got was a face full of explosion for her trouble, accidental of course. Still, the woman is mostly fine, just singed and covered in soot.

The woman deflected Agnes' reprimands on lack of safety until I spied the rat off alone and settled the issue with a second spell. Let me be clear, Lise played with her life. When I wanted to kill that rat, it was broken into a revolting mess. I did not dull Lise's horror by vocalizing my theory that intent to kill seems to be a component in actually harming my target. The woman _cannot_ underestimate magic if she hopes to survive.

Eleventh Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

Jacques left today. He was so somber it sounded like we would be separated forever. I thought of going to see the Princess but I cannot face her. I know she would not endanger my husband without need. _I know it. _Yet I cannot trust myself to restrain my trembling heart.

Experimentation:

The musketeers are gone today. I assume they are with Wardes on whatever confidential mission requires only the most trusted of soldiers. In this empty place with my husband gone off Brimir only knows where I cannot concentrate. My anxiety falters my every incantation. All results are half the quality they should be.

Twelfth Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

I went to see the Princess today. Wardes was honor bound to not to reveal the details of the mission and asking the Princess for information would be to step far above my station. As such tea was an uncomfortable nightmare of small talk. I cannot hate myself enough for letting my own unease bother the Princess. She has a wedding to plan and an alliance to cement while I bother her with a personal issue.

Experimentation:

My mind constantly wanders back to Jacques and the Musketeers. I had better success concentrating today and pulled up my results, but no new ideas for experimentation presented themselves.

Thirteenth Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

Eleanor's crisp handwriting was never so welcome as today. A letter arrived from her early this morning; detailing her trip back to the research institute along with the normal pleasantries. What intrigued me were her thoughts on magic form types. Just as a fire mage can separate the heat, light, and combustive force of fire; I too should attempt to break down the raw form of my magic. The force of the explosion and dispelling properties make at least two. There is also the initial flash and smoke that could be factors.

Not only is this an excellent topic to investigate, but it will give my mind something to do other than worry.

Experimentation:

While the basic tests are back on track to improvement, I had no success with separating my spell components. The magic circle I drew to assist was detonated in short order and I had no time to redraw it. Perhaps Eleanor's gift might hold advice on the issue of destroying one's own runes.

Fourteenth Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

I caught Stella watching me study once again today. It seems whenever I bury myself in one text or another she finds something to clean within sight. Not one to brook any snooping, I cornered her on the subject in short order. The girl does not know how to read. I roll my eyes even as I write this; she is embarrassed by said failing. I'd wager barely a tenth of commoners can read, yet this woman who prides herself as the perfect servant quail's at being seen as illiterate.

So now I am devoting an hour each day to teaching the girl letters. I know it is a minor breach of conduct to spend so much time on a commoner, but Father always said a noble should act as a parent to their subjects. Besides, it will be good practice for when I teach my own children to read. That's right future scribe, I will not worry over _if _Jacques will return. Only _when_ he shall return. You'll see. I'll see.

Experimentation:

So, I spent the majority of the day learning to work strengthening enchantments into my magic circle only for my spell to blow it up anyways. I am reminded of my infuriating failures at school. My backup plan worked far better. I made the circle inordinately large and kept my explosion small enough not to harm the runes around the spell. A mundane solution, but a solution never the less. Sadly I had little time left over to make real use of the construct.

Fifteenth Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

While Mother had long since resolved the issue, Mr. Colbert informed me of the Staff of Destruction's return by letter today. That, along with an odd remark of my Mother's severity was as much knowledge on the subject he deigned to share.

The man has sent letters out to various alchemy specialists he respects asking for detailed information on potion detonation. Indeed, an improperly mixed potion can explode as soon as willpower is used to activate the arcane properties of the components. As the only magical art to fail like mine, Colbert suggests looking into any similarities. With this and Eleanor's own advice, I am reminded to thank Brimir for such excellent research aid.

His post script asked me if I had made up with Kirche, as the girl apparently insisted Colbert send her best wishes after she caught him writing the letter. Truthfully I do not know whether the Zerbst is teasing me or not. It isn't like she cannot send her own letter. Though, I must admit I hesitate to write her as well. To say the Zerbst is perplexing is a grievous understatement.

Experimentation:

The magic circle I constructed acts as a secondary foci to my wand and I could feel _something_ split inside me when I performed the basic casting exercises. However whenever I finished my casting nothing happened, not even an explosion. What's more, my sense of willpower ends once it leaves my wand so I have no idea if anything is happening at all. If I stop holding back my willpower the circle is overwhelmed and a standard explosion detonates.

Sixteenth Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

I deserved the singed hair when I tried to imbue my potion and detonated my entire alchemy set. Truly, I should have known better. Stella was kind enough not to comment on the ludicrous mess I made. The following shopping trip to replace what I had destroyed took up most of my day. At the very least I was able to purchase the most dashing hat for Jacques to give him when he gets home tomorrow. My heart dances with excitement at the thought of his return.

Experimentation:

Still nothing on the test of splitting my spell components. I turned my focus to potions. In school all my potions always detonated, however I have vastly improved minimizing my power output. Sadly, even with my new found restraint, any potion coming into contact with my magic explodes instantly.

Seventeenth Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

Jacques is late. I waited until the sun fell from the sky to stop my vigil. I know I am simply worrying. If the task was dangerous it is good he is not rushing. I'd rather him come home late than not at all. He'll be home tomorrow.

Eighteenth Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

Forgive my trembling hand; all my strength is focused on holding back these tears of mine. Today I was woken by Royal Guards and taken before the Princess. Henrietta... the Princess looked at me with such a cold gaze it chilled me. She said Jacques has betrayed her, betrayed Tristain. Now they look to me and wonder if I am the same. Well I am no traitor and neither is my husband! I pleaded, begged her to understand, but all she said in reply was to command me to surrender my wand. There, before the court, I could not appeal to my childhood friend. No, I could only surrender my foci to my liege and be locked within this guest room.

Surely the investigators ransacking my home will find this all a mistake. Or perhaps Jacques has gone under cover? If this is all a ruse to fool some enemy I will shout his ear off for keeping me in the dark. Though I do not know If I shall have the energy to shout for months when this exhausting misunderstanding is over.

Twentieth Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

Today I write once again within my own journal, and have copied my previous entry over to it. The comfort of these pages is dirtied by the knowledge that some investigator read and copied every word. My life was bared before a stranger and it is humiliating.

Agnes was the one to return the journal to me. I only know it was her because I heard her order the guards outside my door to give it to me. I shouted for her, but she simply thanked me for Derflinger and said the debt was paid. I only wish she explain what is going on. Is Jacques alright? Just what is happening?

If this misunderstanding takes much longer I will have to ask for Stella to be transferred to the castle kitchens. The food they feed me is not up to her standards.

Twenty-First Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

I am "officially" cleared of suspicion, though I doubt I shall ever recover socially. Stains like treason, even false accusations, do not wash away. With the investigation only turning up evidence that I had been fooled as well, they let me return to my mess of a home today. The furniture is upended, the dishes lie everywhere, and even some walls are broken in. Here, alone in this ruined home, I write these words.

My husband, soon to be ex-husband, Jean-Jacques Francis Wardes is a traitor. From the beginning he had been using me to raise his status, and when that was not enough he used me to gain the Princess' trust so he could defect to the Reconquista. Agnes told me what happened. Told me how he turned on the Musketeers and cut them down. Those women, those friends of mine are dead and my Princess betrayed. All because of the their trust in me. All because of how I was used so easily.

Now with the mission failed, love letters between the Princess and Prince Wales of Albion will be made public. The wedding and alliance with Germania will be canceled. I have endangered all of Tristain with my foolishness! As I sit here the truth presses down on me like a harsh weight. I am a useless failure, a zero.

Twenty-Second Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

I fired Stella today. I paid her what I could and sent a letter to my father to ask him to find her work. Should she remain attached to the Wardes name she'll end up dirtied like me.

My thoughts go back to Wardes. I cannot erase the memories, the affection, what I thought was love. I can bathe a hundred times but I will never feel clean again.

Twenty-Third Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

I am still Louise Wardes. The reminder of my worthlessness clings to my very name. I could retake my maiden name, but that would simply taint my family. I sent a letter to them explaining as best as I could what happened and warning them from visiting. A pariah like me shouldn't be publicly associated with.

There is a spider forming a web under the upturned couch in the corner. I hate that spider, but cannot bring myself to kill it.

Twenty-Fourth Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

"OH ho ho ho ho!"

Even in writing that laugh infuriates me! Kirche Zerbst stood outside my house in plain view this morning. Her boisterous guffaw must have woken everyone a within half a mile. All she did was keep laughing and shouting about how amazing it was I had finally broken. How she thought it impossible that I could break. That even after giving it her all to break me at school I remained firm.

Such a vile despicable woman to come all the way out here just to laugh at me. Well I'll show her! I am Louise Francoise! I do not break. Even defiled and dirty I'll get back up and form a plan. She can come to the ends of the earth to laugh at me, but I'll get up and show her...

Founder damn that woman. Is she my best enemy or my worst friend?

Experimentation:

I could only mix potions in preparation of tests today. I cannot return to the musketeer grounds. I cannot face Agnes.

Twenty-Fifth Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

I've given it some thought and have sent a letter to my father asking him to seek new marriage candidates. It is somewhat of a longshot, but if I remarry quickly I can avoid pulling my family down with me while sidestepping my fast approaching social death.

And believe me future scribe that death is fast approaching. My magic already makes me hardly an enviable match, my association with a traitor has only worsened my worth. Unless I marry soon, no noble will ever touch me. I suppose I could seek some job and fall into ranks with bastards, but even if I carry a tainted name, my blood is still Valliere. I have a responsibility to the family to advance it, even if that means an arranged marriage with a man I've never met before.

Experimentation:

I set off small explosions today. Killed that spider. Damned spider should have left me alone.

Twenty-Sixth Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

I went to the Castle today. Though when I arrived at the gates I faltered. Would Henrietta even see me? In the end I did not try to meet with her. I failed her. I do not deserve her friendship.

Experimentation:

This is infuriating. I cannot help but grieve for the spider. It was spider! Why is my heart constantly flitting about?!

Twenty-Seventh Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

I cannot remain in this house. Every moment I am here I feel dirtied ever more. What resolve I can forge to press on is constantly worn away by the twisted echoes in these halls. Yet I cannot remain outside for long either. Everywhere I go I can feel eyes watching me, evaluating me. I was so distracted I ended up accidentally making my way towards the Musketeer training grounds.

This house, this city, they are no longer my home. I am selling everything and leaving. I care not where, I am leaving.

Experimentation:

Rather than experiment I went to the Musketeer training grounds. As hard as it was, I needed to go before I left the Capital.

There were seven graves. Seven empty graves. Agnes caught me paying my respects. I don't know how long she watched, but when I finished my prayers she was there, still and vigil as a stone golem. At first I could not meet her eyes. Only after she punched me off my feet did I meet her gaze as I looked up with my back in the dirt. The punch was for Lise she said.

The hand up was for everyone else. They'd have forgiven me Agnes says. I cannot believe that, but I have not the will to deny it either.

Agnes said she does not blame me. She was the only one to read my journal, so she understands better than anyone how I was fooled. It was nice at least, knowing who had read my journal. Apparently it was only because of Derflinger that Agnes survived at all to report on Wardes betrayal. How that sword aided her wasn't something the woman would elaborate on. Something about trump cards was mumbled.

Just we two women and seven lost souls sat there in the moonlight. Agnes plans to press on; to keep recruiting. These seven girls died, but if the musketeers survived at least their legacy would live on. Me? I too will persist. I owe these girls that much.

Carol. Ellie. Lily. Mirielle. Alice. Denise. Lise.

I shall remember these names. They were heroes. They were musketeers.

Twenty-Eight Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

With my house sold far under value, I take my ecu and look to the road ahead. There is one place I can go. The road is long, but I wont stop until I get there.

Twenty-Ninth Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

Last time I sat here in the Nymph's Rest Inn I assumed it to be my last visit. Now I have rented out a room for the foreseeable future. I'll not return home to be a burden, and I have no where else to go. Here at least I can gain a small amount of comfort. Perhaps it was the exhaustion or perhaps it was simply my love of this inn, but when I arrived last night I fell right to sleep. It was my first good sleep since I was pulled from my house by the royal guards. Perhaps there is hope for me yet.

Thirtieth Day of Brimir's Fourth Month

I informed my Father of my location and asked he write me when he finds any potential suitors. For the time being I shall begin practicing my magic in earnest once more. There are only two other guests at this sleepy little inn, and not much else to do.

Experimentation:

With an entire day to practice, I constructed a large magic circle in the field and tested more splitting of my magic. I had a thought. The light and concussive force of my explosions could possibly be split. If I could produce only light it would be quite obvious, so I began focusing purely on a harmless flash of light. Sadly, I still have the problem of no result or overwhelming the circle and producing only an explosion. In the days to come I shall keep at this problem. Wish me luck future scribe.

A/N: So what do ya'll think? Not quite as happy as previous chapters. I tried really hard to get the emotional flux that comes with fighting depression.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Mott is actually pretty normal to handsome looking after checking the wiki. My mental image of him before rechecking was short, fat, big nosed, and whiny. Dangers of fanon right there folks.

Records of Change

Chapter 4

Seventh Day of Brimir's Fifth Month

There is a pain, a dirtiness that still clings to my heart. Though this past week of constant study and effort has dulled that blight upon my soul, it is never completely from my mind. Like a demon scratching at the back of my mind, it whispers to me that all my effort is fruitless. Sometimes I can feel my resolve wavering. In truth I know not whether it is through my own willpower that I continue or the fear of that demon being right.

Yet on this day I felt whole again, if only for the briefest of moments. Assisted by my magic circle I was able to change the form of my spell. Where as before creating a flash of light seemed to take too little power to handle, I instead tried for a spell with no upper limit on how much light I would produce. Then, after hours of failed spells, I was able to produce a flash of light all on its own. I do believe I lit of the night sky for miles around, but that was _all_ I did. There was no explosion, no failure, only progress.

For the first time since I began these experiments I can say without doubt that I produced a spell. Not a spell failure used in a constructive way, but a truly successful spell. I cannot wait to begin tests on just what I can do with this light.

Tenth Day of Brimir's Fifth Month

Though I am yet to properly manipulate the flash of light I can produce, I have been able to scale down the power output to more reasonable levels. Upon my successful separation experiment three days ago I immediately sent word to Eleanor thanking her for the advice. Today her reply came by courier.

I do believe she tried very hard not to take credit for the discovery, yet I can see she is quite proud of her advice. She always did subtly look down on the tutors my parents hired for me, now she has every right to do so without reservation.

Beyond business, Eleanor praised me for my decision to remarry as soon as I can. For all the same reasons I previously stated she agrees. It is some relief; being told I am making a wise decision, if not necessarily one that feels right.

Thirteenth Day of Brimir's Fifth Month

My body burns. It punishes me for slacking off, for not continuing my exercise regime. To explain, Mother arrived at the inn this morning under the pretense of surveying the lands around. With mother came fencing lessons. Those very lessons were far more rigorous than any before. When my legs could barely hold my body upright, I forgot myself and asked why she was being so harsh.

To this she replied that if I was going to step out from her protection face a world against me then I would need strength. She told me to never forget this pain. Terrible as I felt, I would grow stronger from this. Then stronger still each time I was tested. The world is the same. For every trial I face, I will grow stronger.

I do not know if I have the resolve my mother has, nor even the resolve she seems to see in me. Even with this uncertain heart, I will try to live up to that standard she has set. My life has been one trial after the next. If I am to live always being beaten down, I would rather fight back against it than flounder to my knees.

Seventeenth Day of Brimir's Fifth Month

Mother has been instructing me on drills I can follow on my own so when she leaves I might continue to strengthen myself. Each morning I practice with the harsh woman, and each day my body hurts a little less than the day before. What's more, each time I stand back up, I can see a faint smile upon my Mother's lips. Never before have I seen her, well, proud of me.

Onto more serious matters. One of the reasons mother came in person was to warn me. Enemies of the Valliere house are still looking to capitalize on my ex-husband's betrayal to undermine our family. For now my refusal to take back my maiden name and disappearance from the public eye has delayed them, but we cannot know for how long. Hopefully Father can find me a match quickly.

Twentieth Day of Brimir's Fifth Month

Mother left today. The arrival of my Father's eagle signaled the end of my days at this inn, and my eventual return to the world beyond. In his message he listed the potential suitors open to a marriage. Well, I say suitors, but there is only one man willing to marry me.

I knew I was hardly a desirable match, but only one marriage candidate? Well, at least he is a Count. It took little research for Father to find the reason the Count Mott wishes to marry me so quickly. Though the Royal Tax Collector and a Count he has no lands of his own due to lack of marriage. He along with another Count are both vying to be granted the fief of Tarbes by the Royal family. By marrying me, Count Mott will have everything he needs to officially request the fief.

I have never met the man, nor does he have a particular reputation to call upon. In truth, beyond his name I know nothing of the man. Our marriage will be one of pure politics. He wants land, I want a new surname. Though Louise Mott sits ill at ease with me, it is a far cry better than Louise Wardes.

Twenty-First Day of Brimir's Fifth Month

After my immediate reply of acceptance yesterday, Father's eagle returned once more today with a date for the marriage. The event is set to take place a week's hence. In such a short time no grand party will take place, not that either party wishes for it. Rather, I am content to have this business over and done with before the enemies lurking in the shadows can undermine it. Count Mott likely prefers the date so he can request Tarbes before his rival can even react to the news.

Even with such ostentatious news, I have continued my research. My research into manipulating the flash of light has slowed to a crawl, yet progress still shows in that I can now maintain a steady orb of light at the tip of my wand. The spell has replaced my candles for late night reading. It may just be a convoluted mimic to a simple illumination cantrip, but it is a spell. There can be no confusion between it and a simple spell misfire. This light is a spell, and it is mine.

Twenty-Fourth Day of Brimir's Fifth Month

As expected the fief of Tarbes has been granted to Count Mott as a wedding gift. Of course it wont be official until we are married, but the paperwork has begun. The wedding itself will take place in Tarbes' chapel. Using the pretense of endearing ourselves to the locals we are avoiding the need for a proper noble wedding without losing face. In truth it does not bother me. I have no desire to make a grand event out of this marriage of convenience.

Due to the wedding's size I will invite only one guest beyond my immediate family. For some odd reason I almost considered inviting Kirche. Now _that_ would be all the ammunition one would need to turn the wedding on the Vallieres. Why the thought leapt to my mind confuses me. When I think of Kirche I cannot decide whether seething anger or grudging appreciation fills me. Truly, that Zerbst will vex me until the day I die.

That still left the issue of a guest open. In the end I decided to invite Professor Colbert. He missed my last wedding and I owe the man much. Even more, lately our letters have started to include more and more pleasantries outside of strictly research. The man has the most outlandish idea's on civil welfare. He said the ideal would be for commoner children to have schoolhouses funded by the government instead of leaving it to the more wealthy towns and villages to sort that out themselves. I try to convince him that his heart is in the right place, but it is simply needless expense that would bear no fruit. What use does a blacksmith have with literature? Regardless of that debate, I do consider the man a friend, odd as that is to say of one's former teacher.

More news on my flash of light. I have attempted to use delay casting with it and found something interesting. As long as I hold it to a steady trickle of willpower, I can sustain an orb of light indefinitely as my willpower regenerates faster than I deplete it. The difference between this delay versus casting with enough willpower to sustain the orb for a period of time comes with two benefits. First, once I hold this light with a trickle of willpower I seem to be able to exert some control to its movement. I have been able to keep it just over my shoulder for easy reading, which is quite convenient I must say. Second, I am able to cast other spells alongside my light orb as once the orb is away from my wand the new spell wont destabilize it. For the time being I am referring to this spell as "Light Orb" as I have always preferred direct spell names. Quite a name for my first spell invented, don't you think future scribe?

Twenty-Seventh Day of Brimir's Fifth Month

Today I arrived in Tarbes. Tis quite a good plot of land really. The main crop is grapes and wine made from those grapes. The village is located near the port of La Rochelle, so exporting has never been an issue for them. Beyond that the unused lands include both a dense forest and plenty of fertile plains. I can see why there was contention over such a fine fief. Though I have had little time to interact with the locals, they showed good manners and seemed like fine people.

My future husband on the other hand is not so fine a catch. Though moderately handsome, his eyes glint of greed. That slight hunger never leaves those eyes. In our first conversation he spoke of the woes moving his fortune and art from his old manor. As if I were some lowborn who would swoon over the idea of wealth. Still, I must withhold judgment as best I can. I know my experience with Wardes has left me bitter, and such resentment could be skewing my disposition.

This night a scouted around the manor granted to us. Though the place is a old, it is in good repair. Furthermore there is a plot of land not to far from it shielded by a sparse grove of trees. I'll have to hire an enchanter to place some sound dampening wards, but it will serve just fine as a training ground.

Twenty-Eighth Day of Brimir's Fifth Month

My first wedding was a small affair, but it dwarfed this night's ceremonies. A simple gathering in a chapel with my parents, a few guests, and the priest. Colbert was nice enough to make it, even on such short notice. The man smiled broadly as if this were some jovial occasion rather than a dull political move. Still, I could not help but be slightly infected by his good mood. I am moving forward after all.

I made sure to note the faces of the commoners in the back that attended. I recognized the village elder, and the others likely held positions of some authority among the community. Father expressed to me the importance of being on good terms with them. Their opinion of me will be shared by all their fellow villagers and a good relationship with one's subjects can only help.

Now I must go, I doubt I can keep my husband waiting much longer.

Twenty-Ninth Day of Brimir's Fifth Month

I am not so naive anymore that the mere mention of sex reddens my cheeks. I say sex rather than love making because there was no love involved future scribe. The deed was done, then the man fell asleep. At least Mott was honest in using me, rather than whispering lies into my ear. On that note, the worst of the experience was Wardes. The memory of being used in such a way clings to me throughout the act. Again I feel the need to bathe, yet I know it will not cleanse me. I shall move on before my mood worsens even more.

My husband's servants arrived with all his valuables today. The manor that had long stood empty outside Tarbes was quickly transformed from an old, but serviceable residence into a gaudy mess of a mansion. Still, the vault below was quickly filled with a substantial amount of gold. I suppose as with no land previously my husband had little to invest in.

After I become accustomed with the land I shall talk to him about perhaps investing in developing some of these plains.

Tonight my experiments lacked any special flare, as I simply got back into my routine after travel and marriage. I should note a slight error in my "Light Orb" spell. If I delay the cast too long, the orb will emit a brilliant flash when released; likely due to the buildup of supplied willpower. I shall look into solutions for this problem.

Thirtieth Day of Brimir's Fifth Month

I received a personal maid from my husband today. Her name is Siesta, both a local of Tarbes and a former employee at Tristain's Magic Academy. Though her skill and connection with the land interest me more than her employment history, I am rather surprised at the thought my husband put into such a gesture. I shall have to rethink my opinion of him somewhat.

The maid herself is only somewhat remarkable. From what I have seen she is competent and well mannered. A bit odd looking with her inky black hair and not quite right eyes, but I supposed that is irrelevant. Her one weakness is she can become chatty if I question her on her family. I sense some stress from her, but I cannot tell why. She seems quite intimidated by my husband. Did he make a scene buying her contract for me? The things men will do to prove their masculinity.

I wrote to Eleanor today on the subject of my "Light Orb's" defect. Spell creation isn't her area of expertise, but she likely has colleagues she can question on the matter.

Thirty-First Day of Brimir's Fifth Month

Professor Colbert has asked to remain in Tarbes while he researches some artifact he uncovered. It took a little coaxing, but I convinced my husband to allow it. I owe Colbert much and this is some small way to repay him. Besides, having the man about will make consulting him easier.

What confused me at first was Mott's initial dislike of offering a room to Colbert. Then I realized it was jealousy. The two men are of the same age, and I think he sees the Professor as a rival! The very idea nearly made me chortle aloud! Oh Brimir, I've married a man as old as Professor Colbert. That... is not quite so funny.

Right, moving on to experiments. I was able to study with Colbert this evening. After explaining to him my problems with the "Light Orb" spell he suggested it might be related to fire in some way. Sadly, after rigorous tests we have concluded that my light produces no heat whatsoever. Odd, in that even sunlight is warm. The idea of heat-less light excited Colbert far more than one would expect. At least one of us is happy.

First Day of Brimir's Sixth Month

Siesta reminds me of Stella in that I find myself speaking more to her than is technically proper. Nothing out of the ordinary mind you. Just little conversations while she dresses me or the like. With that rapport to in mind I offered to teach her to read, however Siesta was quick to bow out of such a generous offer. I suppose these things can't be forced.

Still, that ever present stress I sense in her remains. I know she does not dislike me, as she often finds reasons to be in presence. I am positive it has something to due with my husband, as she shirks away as soon as he shows himself. Finding some task or another to attend to. Tomorrow I shall endeavor to break the girl out of her shell.

Though my problems with "Light Orb" persist, Colbert and I gathered residue from lit blackpowder and my own explosions tonight. Hopefully a connection might be established.

Second Day of Brimir's Sixth Month

A stressful day if there ever was one. The morning started just fine. I convinced Siesta to take me into Tarbes and give me a tour. The idea had twofold benefits. First, it was important to meet my subjects. As father says a noble must be an example to follow, not a figure looming over them. Just human enough to be imitated, yet with flaws hidden to remain the paragon they need. The second benefit was the trip would hopefully ease Siesta's worries.

The tour itself was quaint. Though humble, the buildings are firm and have strong villagers to match them. There is a strength here in Tarbes. Ages have come and passed, but the People of Tarbes have remained. Said people were respectful and I did my best to remember what names I could. Though not the same intensity as Siesta, the rest of the villagers also hid stress behind their eyes.

It was only after meeting with the village elder that I learned the reason. As soon as my husband had gained the fief he had imposed a forty percent tax increase. All at once mind you, not even a slow increase over time. What's more when I questioned him the elder knew of no plans for any form of renovation or development. It took all my strength to remain neutral. I could not condemn my husband, their lord, before these people. However, I did promise to bring their concerns to him with all haste.

Of course that leads me to the worst event of the day. My meeting with my dear husband. The man rambled off some stupid adage of commoners being happy to serve nobles. When I tried to explain the value of their loyalty, I was rebuffed with that their loyalty was their duty to give, not his to earn. Now, I will not argue that point but the truth is that loyalty simply doesn't work that way. If I am to put my Father's advice on governing against my husband's, I will side with the man whose lands cover more than just one village. Knowing I would have little luck with getting Mott to repeal the taxes, I instead suggested perhaps a new well for the village. Their current well would dry soon and was in disrepair. The man simply chuckled at my "womanly weak heart" and dismissed me. Well he can enjoy sleeping alone tonight, this woman is far to weak for strenuous activity apparently.

Third Day of Brimir's Sixth Month

Today I ventured forth with Professor Colbert to see this artifact he was researching. A good excuse as any to escape my vexing husband, and it allowed me to see the edges of my lands as well. The artifact itself was interesting, if completely devoid of magic. Tis sad, the device was likely something to behold before the magic within died. Still, Colbert is absolutely thrilled with the thing.

In truth I enjoyed the trip more than the artifact. We had to travel through a forest, then a cave, only to come out in a hidden valley. With spring turning to summer, the land was absolutely gorgeous with green life. Even the cave, dank as it was, held a charming mystery to it. On a more objective note I should look into having a shelter built within this valley. Should, Brimir forbid, the people of Tarbes ever be displaced due to fire or war a safe and hidden retreat would be quite literally life saving.

I should mention the artifact, "the Dragon's Raiment" actually belongs to Siesta's family. Twas a good excuse to visit them and learn the names of her parents and siblings. The family actually runs the main vineyard of Tarbes, making them one of the three wealthier families of the village. Second only to the village elder Remus and Bertrand the merchant. Though things remained respectable, the father's questioning after his daughter was endearing. Twas easy enough to promise him to look after her, I had intended to regardless. Still, he said it with such worry I cannot help but worry as to what I am missing.

As for research, Colbert and I made a rather startling discovery. Though not related in any discernible way to blackpowder residue, the residue left behind my my explosions has interesting properties. The dust is infused with magic. Not to any mind boggling degree, but that there is any despite the dispelling nature of the spell is perplexing. More research will be needed. I admit I am quite excited with so many avenues for research opening.

Fourth Day of Brimir's Sixth Month

Another vexing day. I should remember to thank Mother; I think if I did not have these fencing drills every morning I would explode from all the stress. Despite the reprieve of yesterday I found myself in a bind today. I took another trip into Tarbes with the intent of using my connection with Siesta's father to get into Remus and Bertrand's good graces, I instead found myself answering concerns before half the town after stumbling into their meeting. When the questions lost their respectful phrasing, I had to rebuke them and remind them I was the noble. Still, once I reigned in my harsh tongue I did promise to bring their concerns before Mott. Whatever good it will do. Still, I as I looked over the town I knew I wanted to help them. It is a good feeling, this responsibility. Heavy, but good.

As for Mott? A plan will be needed. I cannot order him and he will not take an ounce of advice from me. Tonight I shall spurn him once more to make him appreciate me properly. Then tomorrow I shall "soften" and ask for a date. Specifically a walk through Tarbes and the countryside. Hopefully once he sees the faces of his subjects he might see them as people rather than objects. Wish me luck future scribe.

At least Eleanor's reply came today. She has some interesting ideas on a solution. Foremost is the technique of spell redirection, which involves cancelling a spell and using the willpower on another before it dissipates. I hesitate as the technique requires extensive control and is usually only performed by the best of triangle mages and above. Still, the principles might help drain off some willpower from "Light Orb".

Fifth Day of Brimir's Sixth Month

I killed Count Mott.

Fear grips me as I write this confession. I killed my husband. I did not mean to, I swear. Yet I did all the same. When I went to see him I was prepared to play the part of dim woman sorry for spurning her husband. I was planning on biting down any and all spite. yet when I opened that door to give him his "morning surprise" I did not find him alone in his chambers.

No, with cheeks stained with tears Siesta lay pushed over the bed. Her dress half ripped aside as she pleaded for my husband to stop. There was no thought, there was no consciousness within me then. There was Siesta, this good girl, crying in fear. This girl whom I had given my word to defend and she needed help. My wand was out and spell released instantaneously. All I wanted was for Mott to get off of her. Yet in my rage I could not control my power. Mott was thrown backward and through the window. Whether it was the glass from the thick panes or the stone road three stories down that killed Mott, I do not know. What I do know is Mott is dead, and I killed him.

I did not let Siesta leave my side until my courier brought her father to me. Twas only then did I release her. Now that she is safely with her family I turn to the confession I must send to the Capital. If I am to burn for this, I will do so alone. I failed to protect Siesta, failed to see why she feared Mott, I will not fail her in this.

Sixth Day of Brimir's Sixth Month

My confession is on its way to the Capital. Along with a letter to warn my father for events to come. In this calm before the coming storm, I wait for the Royal guards. Once before I was taken as a criminal before the Princess, I doubt I shall escape as unscathed this time.

As my mind lingers on Siesta I cannot help but realize the horrid truth. Was I responsible? If I had been with Mott, If I had sated him. Would she have been left in peace? She must realize this. She must hate me.

Ninth Day of Brimir's Sixth Month

I write this entry upon fresh paper as my journal has been taken as evidence once more. Today a magistrate accompanied by two manticore knights arrived to conduct a trial tomorrow. Something is off. I should be taken to the Capital to stand trial, not tried on my own lands like some lower noble. My instincts tell me those enemies of the Vallieres are behind this.

I fear Siesta may be in danger. Though I sent word to Colbert to protect her as soon as I saw the magistrates robes, I fear a simple school teacher may not be enough. Tomorrow I must walk into whatever trap this is, wandless and unprepared. Brimir be with me, I am afraid.

A/N: So, should I continue? Should I posted Spoilers of a vague summary of whats to come?


	5. Chapter 5

Records of Change

Chapter 5

Tenth Day of Brimir's Sixth Month

Even should I live to see centuries turn, I doubt I shall ever repay the debt I owe to Siesta of Tarbes.

Chained and alone, I was brought to Tarbes' town hall. It quickly became apparent that the magistrate presiding over the trial and the prosecutor were colluding when the two tricked me into stating I had no attorney, which was immediately interpreted as I wished to defend myself. In the benches behind, the villagers watching murmured in discontent; only to be shushed by the hard pounding of the magistrate's gavel. The farce continued, which my every objection overruled, my confession and journal taken out of context, and my words twisted even as they left my mouth. It shames me, but I was thoroughly outwitted from begging to end.

Then, as I could see the end approaching, I demanded to be able to call my own witnesses. I had thought turning myself in and explaining the circumstances of Mott's death would grant some leniency. To this the magistrate replied that if I could supply "this so called maid" to back up my claim of stopping a crime in progress, leniency wouldn't even be an issue. It was no crime to protect another, revenge killing or conspiracy to murder, those were the crimes I was suspected of.

Then, just as my temper was about to force me to spring yet another trap, the doors of the town hall were flung open. With blood still dripping from his brow, Professor Colbert stood holding a bound ruffian. The professor nodded to Siesta at his side, and the maid strode forward into the court. My breath hitched as she requested to testify. The foolish girl; she had to know commoners died like flies in the games of nobles. All she had to do was remain at home, do nothing, and her safety was assured. Yet there she stood, eyes tearing and body shaking as she took the stand.

The bound man called from the back; warned her that if she spoke death would find her. The magistrate himself asked if she was _sure_ she wanted to do this, subtly suggesting she remain quiet. But no, that brave girl bit back her fears, clenched shut her eyes and said exactly what happened. She said what Mott did, and what I stopped. She said _she_ owed _me._ Any perceived debt was paid a thousand times over with those words. There, by the magistrate's own condescending condition, was my salvation.

For the first time in the trial I took the initiative. Pressing that there was all the magistrate needed, he had said so himself. The man's stutters gave way to the cheers of the people of Tarbes, _my people, _as they rejoiced at injustice being trampled by their very own Siesta.

Frustrated and on the verge of outburst, the Magistrate conceded my innocence and demanded the "assassin" be taken into custody. However, I was no longer blinded by fear nor had my happiness taken my wit. I knew a tactical retreat when I saw one. There was no way I was letting this assassin "escape" in transit to the capital. I exercised my right as ruling noble to detain those who committed crimes on my soil. The man could rot in _my_ cells.

Oh, seeing that magistrate's face turn red with anger and the prosecutors gaping jaw hang limp is a sight I shall remember for years to come. That sight, and the freedom that heralded it, I owe to the bravery of one very special maid. Siesta of Tarbes, I shall ever consider you my friend.

Eleventh Day of Brimir's Sixth Month

Yesterday may have been a tumultuous ride of emotions, but today was all business. My "cells" as I called them, are limited to a single cell in the Tarbes town guardhouse. Even stripped of his wand, I do not trust the cell to hold the assassin long. Yes, I did say wand. Professor Colbert informed of the details late yesterday.

Apparently Siesta had insisted on being taken to testify, but the two had been stopped by the assassin not twenty paces from Siesta's door. Though Colbert overcame the assassin then, he warns me the man is a triangle wind mage. Not someone to trifle with. I do think Colbert might be exaggerating a tad bit as men are wont to do in their bravado, but even a line mage is a serious threat.

Speaking of Colbert, the man vexes me enough to even overcome my gratitude for her protection of Siesta. Originally I intended to behead the assassin. Magic aside, the man refused to say anything, that included proclaiming himself a noble. Beheading a "commoner" who had tried to kill noble, even indirectly was something none would fuss over. Yet Colbert proved that assumption quite wrong with no small amount of fussing.

I demanded he back his words up with alternatives, yet he refused to give any. Nor did he concede that he had no alternatives. He simply kept impressing the importance of _me_ finding a way not to kill a man. The words he said next linger in my mind still. "It is never wrong to spare a life." Mirielle said those words to me. Even now I can hear her kindness. Brimir damn that Colbert, I need to sleep.

I shall think on it, I owe both Colbert and Mirielle that much.

Twelfth Day of Brimir's Sixth Month

Colbert is appeased; even pleased with himself I imagine. With the condition they not kill him, I have written to my parents asking them to take the assassin into their custody. I lack both the structure to hold him and the staff to interrogate him. They have both. The worst part about this whole ordeal is seeing Colbert's smile and knowing he was right. Compassion aside; the assassin was the tool of another, the one who ordered Siesta's death.

Speaking of the girl, I grow worried. Unlikely as it may be, her life was threatened. On some pretense of needing her at a moment's notice I have ordered her to move into the guest room two doors down from my own. The third floor is safer than her precarious room on the ground floor. Besides, tis a far grander room than any commoner could hope for. Goodness, I doubt she has ever slept on a feather bed before. She deserves more than that, but that is all the reward I can provide for now.

Thirteenth Day of Brimir's Sixth Month

Mother will visit in a few days. Both to take the assassin and deliver some "gifts." I quote that to emphasis my hesitation future scribe. My Mother is not one for spoiling. I think I received a stuffed griffon from her once. I was four. At five I received a wand and a book above my reading level. Whatever gifts she brings, I can safely assume headaches come with them.

Siesta has asked to move her old hay packed mattress up to her new room. Apparently feather's are "too soft." It hurt my brain so much. How? Why? Still, I could not deny the request as I was the one who ordered the move. Somewhere, some master artisan cries at the thought of his grand bed snubbed for a hay-packed mattress.

Also, my progress learning spell redirection has taken a massive leap forward. Professor Colbert caught me practicing the technique and was positively ecstatic to learn I was not learning it for combat, but to improve my illumination spell. That kind of reaction I have come to expect from the man. Him having mastered a technique primarily reserved for combat was not so expected. Perhaps there was more to his defeat of the assassin than simple luck. Still, I shan't look a gift horse in the mouth as learning from him is far easier than the words in my book.

Fourteenth Day of Brimir's Sixth Month

I am ashamed to say it took me this long to notice how withdrawn Siesta has become. Despite the old mattress, the rings under her eyes speak of lost sleep. In the presence of others she will remain silent unless pressed. I had thought that with her proclamation at my trial she would be alright. Yet now I know a moment's courage does not erase the pain she endured.

At the very least she opens up when it is just her and me. I took a trip into Tarbes to talk with her father, and he speaks the same. Around her family she is still demure, but at least speaks. Once out in town she hides in her father's shadow. Before I left I told the man that I had not forgotten my promise to protect Siesta. Failed as I have, I will not discard my duty to her.

Though I left with such bravado, my confidence wanes as I watch Siesta with a closer eye. She reminds me of myself when Wardes turned traitor. The feeling of being dirtied, of unknown threats looking for any weakness, the feeling of worthlessness. I can see it in her every movement. The way she shirks from another's touch, or the way her eyes remain downcast even when no one is near.

What's worse is I know I have not completely conquered those feelings myself. Each day I find something, some objective to complete. That keeps me going. Siesta... she just has her cleaning. I shall think on a way to help her help herself.

My one spot of light this day was my study session with Professor Colbert. Back at the school students had often complimented his teaching abilities, if only to turn around and mock is obsession with natural sciences. Back then I never knew what they meant, as the barrier of my magic stopped any true teaching. Now though, now I can see the man is truly gifted at teaching. All he needs are a few frustrated annoyances at some chant or some willpower shift to identify what I'm doing wrong. Then a well explained solution follows and I feel ever closer to mastery of this technique.

Fifteenth Day of Brimir's Sixth Month

Though I have sent for a professional enchanter, Colbert has placed temporary wards on the manor walls. Tis not his specialty, but better than nothing. Simple alarms should the interior temperature shift with the opening of a window, but enough to alert me to intruders. The servants will have to be instructed to keep all windows shut at night for the time being.

I can hear Siesta crying in her room. What can I do for her? Do I go in and embarrass her? Do I find some excuse to summon her? No, right now I can do nothing for her. Each day is a failure until I find some way to assist my savior.

Sixteenth Day of Brimir's Sixth Month

Mott was the first person I killed, and it was an accident. The three I killed last night were not accidents. Nor were the injuries I inflicted on four others. My one regret is losing the few that escaped into the night.

Men clad in black leathers snuck into my manor under the cover of night. When the candles in my room all lit at once, I knew Colbert's wards had been tripped. I thanked the man and cursed him for his absence in one thought as I summoned forth my light orb. Truly, I needed to have that artifact brought to the manor if only to keep him from camping with it.

Alone, I stalked the hall to Siesta's room. When I arrived I was quickly away I was no longer alone. The shapes of men, clung to the shadows at the end of the hall near the staircase. Their eyes went from me, to Siesta's door, then back to me as weapons were raised. I saw the crossbow level, aimed at my chest. I knew I had no time to chant, so I did what I had practiced. Channeling the stored willpower of my Light Orb into a raw and awkwardly cast spell, I let loose my power before the intruders could silence me.

The wall of my mansion shattered. Inaccurate as my aim was, the power of the explosion more that made up for it. Two men fell out the crumbling hole and to their deaths below. The others, scattered to the floor with ears ringing, had no chance to recover their footing let alone their weapons. I unleashed a fully chanted explosion within the stone floor beneath them. Between the magnified explosion and the stone shrapnel I am surprised only one received fatal injuries.

At that point I assumed I had won as I looked over the unconscious and dead men in the rubble. The crossbow wound in my shoulder reminds me that I was foolish. Luckily the blow hit my offhand arm, leaving my wand hand fully able to unleash my wrath on the then fleeing invaders I had missed. In the end I only caught one of the back up team. The rest disappeared over the outer wall just before I detonated that as well.

Of course by this time the entire mansion was awake and quaking in their bedsheets. Only Siesta, brave against the trepidation that gripped her, peaked out her door to find me bleeding quite profusely. I do hope I didn't frighten the girl too much. My magic isn't exactly subtle and the blood certainly didn't help.

Compared to last night's events, this day has been rather boring. I used a healing elixir from the emergency supplies to heal my arm, but the pain remained. Even with magic it takes time for a complete recovery. I should look into hiring a water mage on staff. A bastard of course, there is no way I can afford a full-blooded noble. The mansion looks like its been under bombardment by a galleon and I shudder to think of how much it will cost to repair.

As for the four assassins I caught, they are patched up, tied up, and cozy together in my one cell. Not one said a single word to me. Well, Mother arrives tomorrow. She might ply them better than I, and I was more than happy to ignore them for the time being. Especially considering Colbert was quick to ask for my word against executing them. Twas something I would not and will not give. Lenience is one thing, showing weakness is another.

Though we butted heads on that issue, Colbert still worried after my wound and my state of mind. I confessed I do not regret killing those men, but I still feel ill about the mess. It is inherently a wrong thing to kill another. I know this just as I know that is an evil one must commit in the name of justice a times. Jean said the oddest thing. He asked me never to get used to killing. If I were to promise him one thing it would be that. Looking at him, I could not deny that man. I said it to him then and I shall write it now. I shall never get used to killing. Even if I must for the sake of peace, I shall understand the gravity of every life I take.

Now if you'll excuse me future scribe, my arm hurts enough to elicit a few curses from this woman.

Seventeenth Day of Brimir's Sixth Month

I do believe Mother found the ruined state of my Mansion amusing. She made some quip about a unique way to remodel. My Mother! A Joke! Plots and assassins must have gotten her blood boiling. Either that or the three month anniversary of our promise has made her emotional.

Indeed, three months ago today Mother promised to apologize if I kept up my research. Before even inquiring into the details of my home's invasion she asked after my research. I was all to happy to provide my data logs and walk her through what I had learned. All the while I could see this little grin on her face. The more I saw it, the more excited I grew. By the time I finished by showing her my "Light Orb" spell she was actually smiling at me. It was soft and reserved, but she was proud of me. Truly, I feel such relief. I have finally gained the worth she sees in me.

Then she began to apologize. I felt no gratification, no childish pride at seeing her beat around the bush. No, it just felt wrong. Inherently so. Following that instinct I stopped her. Doing so was all the epiphany I needed. I just asked her not to apologize, and she silently nodded.

Apology or no, she still had two gifts for me. The first for the completion of my promise. A manticore, the pick of her own familiar's litter. The adolescent beast is young, but easily big enough to fly with me as his rider. And ride him I shall, I've had plenty of practice, but to ride my own manticore? I am excited beyond measure. Still, I must measure myself and wait for the imprint to stick. One does not simply ride a manticore before they mark you as one of their pride. I still haven't decided on a name, I am sure a good one shall come to me in time. I shall note that even in my excitement the weight of my Mother's gift is not lost on me. She recognizes me as a woman now. There shall be no leniency for me if I fall to girlish fancies in the future.

The second gift wasn't actually a gift, as we aren't slavers. Rather, I was told to employ Miss Longueville as my spymaster. Ah yes, how foolish of me to question the obvious utility of a secretary as one's spymaster. Sarcasm aside the truth turned out to be quite strange. Miss Longueville is actually Fouquet of the Crumbling Earth, a notoriously skilled thief and apparently the same thief Mother had "taken care" of for me.

I do feel somewhat foolish as I assumed Mother had been alluding to having killed the thief. At the very least I had not expected mother to up and recruit her. As it was explained to me, Mother caught and bested Fouquet, but rather than kill her offered her a choice. Die, or work with pay for my Mother for four months. If at the end of her service Fouquet wished to leave, Mother would not pursue. However, if she wished to remain in Valliere employ, she was welcome to.

This seemed outlandish to me. Why my Mother of all people showed lenience to a lawbreaker confounded me. Mother did confess it was mostly Father's idea, the man was not one to pass up valuable assets. Mother also mentioned something about a good fight, so I might be getting another peak at her warrior spirit. Still, Mother impressed upon me the point of the deal. Fouquet robbed nobles indiscriminately out of a hatred for the select few who abused their power. Good intentions twisted by negative emotions. It would be my job to show that a good noble was worth serving. Just point her at a few bad nobles every now and again. Though hesitant, I was not about to deny a spymaster when I need one so dearly.

On that note, I have decided to give two of my recent captures to Mother as well. Fouquet has begun work on the other two. Mentioning the circumstances of their attempted invasion quickly motivated the woman. Hopefully between what information my parents and I can collect we might find a name to punish.

Twas a long day, and now as I write this I think I finally understand why I couldn't let Mother apologize. Karin Valliere is not suited to motherhood. She was born driven, talented, and powerful. She spent most of her days in the military and adventuring. She gained strength, will, and skill beyond all her peers. She did _not_ gain good social graces, nor learn softness. She become a mother, but had poor tools for the job. So, she did what she could. She used those ill suited tools to raise me as best as she possibly could. Even challenging me to make sure I stuck to my word. She was even ready to bend her pride and apologize for the sake of making me a better person. I think that kind of effort is what truly makes a good parent. I am thankful to have Karin Valliere as a Mother. She is a good mom.

Eighteenth Day of Brimir's Sixth Month

Mother left this morning, as time is of the essence. Still, we enjoyed a short fencing match before she left. I still have bruises proving I am leagues below her. Oh well, she shall eventually become old and decrepit so I shall beat her one day. I jest future scribe, surely you think more of me than that. I will practice every morning until I can take that woman at her best.

The best part about fencing practice was I finally found my solution. Though not perfect, tis still something I believe shall help. With my manticore familiar with me, I was able to ride him on a short trip over to La Rochelle and visit the market. This time when I went sword shopping I found no talking sword, but a well made and expertly enchanted rapier is just as good.

At first Siesta had no idea what to make of the gift. However, she had little objection to the fencing lesson I gave her. I told her I needed a sparing partner. I also told her to keep the blade with her at all times, who knew when I would decide I wanted a match? I certainly couldn't expect to wait on her to retrieve the blade. We both knew my reasons lied more with giving her the means to protect herself and the self esteem to stand on her own, but those words needn't be said. If I can get up and stand thanks to my magic, hopefully a goal to become a better swordsmain shall help her.

The plan certainly seems to be working. She quite enjoyed her first practice; she even smiled at points. Even now as the sun sets I can hear her out in the courtyard running through the forms I taught her.

On the subject of practice, I have spent most of my efforts in magic research on expanding the number of Light Orbs I can keep active at once. Currently I can manage three, though in truth I would likely only manage two in battle. The ability to unleash a spell so quick saved me from the assassins, even as inaccurate as the converted Light Orb blasts are, they are an excellent technique.

Nineteenth Day of Brimir's Sixth Month

The Withered Hand. Tis the name of the assassin group that attacked us. Though a commoner group, they were mostly ex-military scouts who turned their techniques to a more sinister task. According to Fouquet she didn't even torture the prisoners. "Observation and a clever tongue are worth a thousand blades." She said the phrase thrice, as if pleased with her own wit. Still, I cannot argue with results. The thief turned spymaster has a "friend of a friend" looking into the group, but money is going to be needed.

The wage I pay Fouquet is within reason, but the budget she wants is outrageous. We had a minor argument over the amount before I explained that while my parents are ridiculously wealthy, I am not. For the time being I paid most of what she needed out of Mott's overstuffed treasury with the promise she shall cut back in months to come. If she had already promised bribes, I couldn't risk the backlash of reneging on deals. I have enough enemies as it is.

As long as I am thinking on Fouquet I shall record some thoughts. She is quite the enigma really. She has great distaste for nobles yet when my own parents are brought up she gets flustered. After seeing their lands and receiving a fair deal, she feels they are the exception to the rule. I inquired as to where her animosity came from, but I was quick to learn I had overstepped my bounds. Still, she knows my Mother will honor her deal, and I my Mother's daughter. I sincerely doubt the thief will disappear and make an enemy of the Valliere's when her contract is more than half over.

Again as I write the grunts of a training maid echo through my open window. Outside Siesta practices with a desperate, fervent passion. Seeing her, I worry over my decision to give her that blade, but I yet stand by it. Siesta was attacked twice, she had the right to protect herself. Just as I have the right to strike at those who would endanger my subject, my friend. I _will_ show whoever they are what it means to cross me.

Twentieth Day of Brimir's Sixth Month

Colbert and I once more found ourselves coming to verbal blows. The man questions my decision to teach Siesta the blade. She shouldn't have to learn how to kill. I was quick to hammer into him this was no longer a matter of "shoulds." What is happening, what has happened, they have erased ideals. Even then he protested that ideals should always matter. Only when I queried what he would do for her did her back down. How he would let her feel safe at night? Should she sleep under his cloak while he kept guard? At least I had given her some modicum of agency. Some outlet for the stress that plagues her.

Damn that man. Even though I know I was right, I still feel terrible as I write this. Jean did not deserve my harsh tongue. He just desperately wants the best for others, even when he cannot provide that. His vacation ends soon and then he shall return to the academy. I need to find him and apologize. Excuse me future scribe.

Twenty-First Day of Brimir's Sixth Month

With the assassination attempt and the reports of the Reconquista growing ever stronger, I spent today putting a few standing plans into motion. After taking a trip into Tarbes I explained that I could not repeal the higher taxes. Though the technical regent of Tarbes, my claim is not ironclad. If I start repealing the few edicts Mott made others could call for the lands to be taken from me. Mott's old rival would certainly love that.

Though that news did not draw much joy from the townsfolk, my explanation on how the higher taxes would be used eased their worries. Firstly, I would be paying to have a shelter built in the hidden valley and stocked with provisions. Should a disaster of some kind strike the village could definitely use such a place. The route to the valley is known to most of the elder villagers, and I have asked them to teach the others. My second project will be the renovation and enchantment of the town well. The idea of magically purified drinking water was met with surprising excitement. Was making sure one's subjects did not fall to disease such a grand gesture?

Grand enough for a town party to be held tomorrow evening apparently. With the official reason being to celebrate the rule their new Countess, the villagers have invited me to oversee the festivities. I roll my eyes at such a frivolity even now, but I shall go. Even though I shall have to remain dignified throughout, it will likely be enjoyable and the appearance will do wonders to further set aside the peoples' worries.

Twenty-Second Day of Brimir's Sixth Month

Tis an odd thing to go from looking over an expense report of bribes, burning it, and then taking my spymaster and maid to a party in the village. Of course Fouquet protested, but I needed to show her I was one of the "exceptions to the rule" if I wanted her to stay on as my spymaster.

There was the added bonus of watching Fouquet get swept into a grand circle of villagers dancing around and around with arms linked. As an actual noble I was immune to such advances, my poor spymaster did not have such a luxury. Still, during a song with a mild beat, I did get to dance once. Not with a commoner mind you, that wouldn't be proper. Twas my luck Colbert had broken away from his research long enough to lend a hand. Not that best dancer, Jean is, but not terrible.

Tis sad Siesta could not be persuaded to join the festivities. Poor girl kept making the excuse that I must have a servant nearby for appearances sake. Even with that blade at her side, she shirks even from the crowd of her own village. I had though briefly to tell the girl to leave the rapier behind, but no, I shall never ask this girl to set aside that blade. She must reach the point where she can set it aside herself.

Still, even with us two just outside the joviality, there was peace to be found in the honest beats of their music and the pleasant smells of the innkeeper's grand stew-pot. There was some extra special joy in that stew as well. I had planned to stomach the commoner food as a personal favor to the innkeeper, yet was pleasantly surprised with its quality. I suppose it make sense, my own chef is a commoner just like the innkeeper. A good chef is a good chef, regardless of job title.

In the end I truly enjoyed the party. I believe that even Siesta was glad she came. It was such an honest, happy gathering. I believe I have begun to love these people. My subjects' happiness is my own.

Twenty-Third Day of Brimir's Sixth Month

Colbert leaves tomorrow morning. Tis sad, but I can't keep him here as a pet. I'll miss our research sessions, his advice, even his impassioned ramblings on that artifact of his. Still, he is but a courier away, and our correspondence has no end in sight. Certainly my magic is far from deciphered.

It is humorous, my best friend from school is not some classmate, but an old professor. Jean may be naive, but I wouldn't have him any other way.

That thought brings Kirche to my mind. I do believe I shall write that woman a letter. I think I feel blunt enough to call her visit to me what it was and thank her for the assistance. That will certainly show her! Kirche was always one who enjoyed audacity.

Twenty-Fourth Day of Brimir's Sixth Month

My breath hitches from worry. I haven't bled. Tis late. I

Is that thunder?


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I know I am breaking from my diary restrictions with this bit, but it isn't to overcome any specific challenge so I feel okay doing it. Honestly, I just like the idea of showing the contrast between what others see, and what Louise feels.

**Chapter 6**

Intro

Light filtered through the open hole in the tavern's wall, shining down on the pillar where a cannonball remained deeply embedded. Old, sturdy, and stubborn; Dermund the barkeep cleaned a glass while giving the hole in his wall an annoyed glare. He, like La Rochelle, had been here too long to let a simple bombardment break him. Still, the attack nearly a week ago had put a serious hamper on business with the port still locked down. At the very least his regulars had come in force today. The grounded sailors sat around the tables, drinking away their anxiety as grounded skymen are wont to do.

Off in the corner a young bard strummed his lute, testing the cords as he pondered over possible verses. "_They came from the clouds, ships so loud_... no, no..." Dermund shook his head. This attack had the boy thinking up songs rather than playing them. Not that it mattered, the regulars were more interested in news than song at the moment.

Corin, a particularly rambunctious fellow raised his voice in protest. "I'm telling you, it had to have been an angel!" The groans returned to him from all around only increased his vigor. "No mage can do something like that. Tarbes' ruler is just taking credit for something else!"

Any annoyed rebuttals halted at the sound of the tavern door creaking inward. "I like you Corin, so I'll let that comment slide." Bertrand the trader stepped into his favorite drinking hole in La Rochelle. "Our lady saved us, and I wont suffer further slander." Though his tone was lighthearted, a challenging glint in his eye warned Corin to choose his words.

The others of the bar were happy to see their friend, "Bertrand!" One cried, slapping the man on the back and handing a pint to the Tarbes' native. "You're alive you old dog!" Another smiled and raised his glass to the trader. "How the hell did Tarbes survive that attack?" The more somber of the drunkards asked.

Taking a swig of the offered drink, Bertrand sat himself down near the wall. Sensing a story, the men gathered around. Always happy to be the center of attention, Bertrand leaned in with a massive grin. "I'll tell you lads, it was our Lady." Ever the competent storyteller, Bertrand paused just long enough to wet the men's appetites. "We heard the cannon fire echoing over the plains and saw you under attack. Fear crawled up my own spine as I watched those ships turn toward us." Running his glance over the crowd, Bertrand locked eyes with Corin. "It was chaos as we all ran for our valuables. I tried to tell my kinsmen they had to leave. I know how fast an airship is, we were going to be run down before making the treeline."

Shaking his head, Bertrand remembered the frustration to get anyone to pay attention in the panic. "And then," Bertrand's grimace softened to a thankful smile. "Our Lady appeared before us atop her manticore. Still garbed in her funeral clothes and barefoot, she had rushed to our side as soon as she heard the cannon fire." Bertrand's voice filled with vigor and his pace increased. "She commanded us to flee to a shelter and turned to buy us time. Before I could even say anything, she flew toward the approaching airships alone." For a moment, the storyteller lost his voice as he remembered that moment.

"Wait," Corin interrupted bluntly, shattering the mood. "Why was she dressed in funeral clothes?"

After a moment to blink, Bertrand sighed and explained. "Her husband's funeral had been that evening." Did the man know nothing of storytelling? Rule number one, don't interrupt.

"Hold on," Corin yet again broke that first rule. "The same one yer lady killed right? That don't make sense." All heads turned incredulously toward Corin.

Holding back his annoyance, Bertrand forced a smile and retook control of his story. "Our Lady is just and pious. Brimir commands a wife to wear mourning garments while burying her husband. You see," Bertrand caught Corin's eye as the man opened his mouth once more. "Brimir also commanded nobles look after their subjects as a parent to their children. What parent wouldn't lie down their life for even one of their sons or daughters? Our Lady is as true and honest as they come."

With Corin hopefully sated, Bertrand steered the story back on track. "She flew alone toward her death. Intent on spending her own life to save ours. As I ran I looked over my shoulder at the sound of the manticore's roar. Dragon riders were thrown from the sky one after another. Then, just as the lady looked overwhelmed, the most brilliant light erupted forth from her." Raising his hand in grand gesture, Bertrand concluded. "Twas our Lady's magic. She is no fire mage, nor water mage, nor wind, nor earth. She was born with the element of pure power for that very moment. When the light faded all I could see was the shattered and crashing fleet. Our Lady did not die for us, she stood alone against an army and _won_ for us."

The stilled men's awed silence was once again broken by Corin. "That makes no sense. If she don't have one of the four elements, doesn't that just make her a void mage?" Immediately the tavern erupted into laughter. An embarrassed Corin held his tongue as his buddies slapped him on the back.

Nearly choking on his drink as he laughed, Bertrand replied, "I may be known to stretch the truth Corin, but _that_ is just plain ridiculous." Laughter and rousing joviality filled the tavern once more as fellows who lived through the opening days of war reveled in their survival. Off in the corner, the bard plucked his strings and tested a verse.

"_Oh Lady in Black,_ _with the wind at thine back..._"

Twenty-Seventh Day of Brimir's Sixth Month

I am alive, I can write that much at least. I should be thankful for that. If the village healer hadn't kept me alive until Henrietta's army arrived, I wouldn't have survived long enough for the royal healer to save me at all. Princess Henrietta left for the Capital before I awoke, I'm told. For once I'm glad her royal duties pulled her away. I do not want her to see me like this.

Simply sitting at this desk is a trial. Despite the healer's request that I remain in bed, I must write. I have to recount the battle. The evening of the twenty-fourth I had just finished burying Mott and needed to write. Yet I was halted by the sound of cannon fire. In the distance La Rochelle was being attacked my an Albion fleet. Then that very fleet turned on us. Panicked, I begged Colbert and Fouquet to see my staff to safety and took my manticore to Tarbes. Though I doubted I could do much, I ordered my people to the half-finished shelter and made for the approaching fleet. I foolishly thought to delay with a parley, but I was intercepted by dragon knights who had no intent on letting me live, let alone reach the airships.

It was a desperate battle. My one saving grace being their inexperience with my magic. My initial explosion took out two dragons by luck and the rest dove in spirals toward what they assumed was an unseen gun battery. Their momentary disregard for me gave me just enough of advantage to ready three light orbs and climb. With the altitude on my side, I fought desperately. I know I struck down more, but how many I have no idea. I could see an airship turning broadside, getting ready to pepper me with grapeshot. I should have known it wouldn't fire with the dragon knights so close, but my attention was drawn.

In that moment of distraction, I felt his wind tear into me. Seconds seem to crawl by as I was thrown from my manticore. My blood sprayed into my vision and my left arm spiraled away. Pain wracked the left half of my body as I fell with my back to the ground. I could see my manticore diving for me, but beyond it I could see Wardes looking down from his dragon.

Rage filled me. The man who betrayed me, _who killed me_, was just before me. I poured everything I had into one last spell. All my hate, all my rage, my fear, my dying hopes, even my sadness I poured into that spell. Then, as I looked to the ships beyond Wardes, I hesitated. I could kill Wardes, or turn my spell on the airships and pray I could somehow cast tens times further than before.

Turning my wand from Wardes was the hardest thing I've ever done. With everything I had I held my aim as steady possible. The dizziness came, but I held my spell back. I pulled my last light orb into the spell and held. I held until I could feel myself tear inside. Then, when I could hold no longer, I closed my eyes and released with a whispered prayer. Between the shockwave, the lost blood, and the drained willpower my mind slipped to darkness.

I can hear their voices even now. As the world faded around me, I blinked my eyes in desperation to remain awake. I could hear the terrified screams of sailors as the fleet fell from the sky. I could see Wardes disappearing toward the horizon. And I could see my desperate mount diving for me still. The last thing I remember is my manticore catching my leg in its jaw.

When I awoke this morning my left arm was gone, severed at the shoulder. My right leg may as well have joined it, mangled and gimp as it is. Though I have turned aside my mirror, I can feel the razor-wind scars that cover my left side. The skin of my left cheek is tight, constantly pulling at my mouth. I am hideous and I... I deserve it. Even in defense of my village, I killed hundreds of men. Their screams. I can still hear their screams. Tis punishment, these injuries. The leg is beyond even a square class water mage, and no mage can replace a lost limb.

There is something more. If I close my eyes, I can feel the beginning symptoms; a slight itch in my blood. A manticore's bite holds a blight within it. When my manticore caught my leg it infected me. There is a cure; the potion rests on the shelf next to me. Yet I must hesitate. Water magic takes strength from the body to heal. This is why my leg cannot simply be spelled back to working order. For that same reason I cannot take this potion lightly. The potion would draw strength from my already weakened body to remove the blight from my blood. The healer was very clear. I am pregnant with Mott's child, and drinking this potion will kill the baby I carry.

If I do not drink this potion, I will die. Once the blight sets in, there is no cure. With treatment I could last a year at most. Less, as I would be too weak to survive childbirth. It would be so easy. Rid myself of Mott and this blight with just one drink. No one will blame me for it. Most wont even know. My eyes linger on the potion. I should drink it. It is the right choice. Right? Oh Brimir, tell me what to do. Am I stained so black I deserve even this?

Twenty-Eighth Day of Brimir's Sixth Month

I will die. No matter how much I detest Mott. No matter my fears. This baby is mine and I cannot, _will not_ kill my baby. So I write this entry to you my child. If one day you read this, know that I love you. Even though you are so tiny I cannot even feel you within me yet. I will give my life for you. Should life be as harsh to you as it was to me, know that I love you. If it is ever too hard, please just remember that. I know I will not hold you, will not sing to you, will not be there to raise you. You might even resent me for my absence. But please, at least this. Please know I love you more than I've loved anyone before.

So I will be strong for you my child. I will build for you a legacy.

With that strength in my heart, I have decided to keep my impending death a secret. My people need me to be there for them. Right now as scared as they are, tis not the time to tell them. Only Siesta and the Princess' healer know. Siesta shall tell none, and I convinced the healer to remain silent until I can tell Henrietta. For now, in the opening days of war, Henrietta cannot be distracted. For those same reasons I shall not even tell my parents. At least just for now. Father is one of the heads of the army, and Mother will be busy gathering the our forces. This is a burden no one but I need bear right now.

There is one more problem I worry over. I had thought a bit of practice might ease my mind, but I cannot seem to draw forth more than trickle of willpower. Nowhere near enough for a spell. Tis willpower exhaustion, something possibly permanent. I... I cannot think on this now. At the very least I can use what little willpower I produce to form one light orb. Though it took an hour to charge, I was able to cast a spell using redirection. That will be enough for appearances at least. Yet another thing I must hide from Tarbes. Should these lies be brought to light, I can only hope they forgive me.

Twenty-Ninth Day of Brimir's Sixth Month

I grit my teeth in frustration as I write. With my sole arm occupied supporting myself on my cane, simple tasks are impossible for me. Siesta constantly hovers near me. I need her to cut food, to bathe, to pick a book up off my shelf. I cannot even rise easily without her assistance! This weakness consumes my very will.

To hide that weakness on my trip to Tarbes I rode atop my manticore whom I have named Alexis. Though I do not trust myself to fly, riding atop my Alexis allowed me to remain dignified throughout the trip. The poor manticore dips its head in submission when it sees me limping. I do not begrudge its wounding of me; better alive and wounded than dead, yet the beast still is ashamed. Though not as powerful as dragons, nor agile as griffons, there is no beast more loyal than a manticore. That same loyalty allowed Alexis to turn his back on an enemy to save me, but is also means the beast is beating itself up over a perceived slight.

Demure manticores are still manticores though, and easily imposing enough for my appearance before my people. More importantly, imposing enough for my review of the prisoners. My spell turned one of the ships into a massive shrapnel bomb shredded through the rest of the fleet. Though most sailors died in the crashes, a little over a hundred survived. A POW camp has been build outside Tarbes and is manned by a few soldiers left by the princess and what little guards I have on staff. Though the officers were sent to the Capital, I was informed Professor Colbert had the rest imprisoned here. I didn't need to ask the man his reasoning. Commoner prisoners were unlikely to keep their heads in the Capital. As expected, I found the man tending to the wounded in the camp and he was quick to ask for leniency. I had not the will to debate the man, so I have postponed judgment for now.

Tis a problem, that camp. I do not fear a prison break from soldiers whose homeland is in the very sky. I do however know that I am paying for their food and the medical supplies to tend to their wounds. As I looked over the prisoners I could see the fear in their eyes. I am lucky I chose to wear my black funeral veil to hide the scars on my face or they would have seen the fear in my own eyes. Fear at what I had done, for when I looked on those men I could hear the screams once more.

The mourning veil was applicable for my last stop. The able bodied survivors had been forced to dig a mass grave. I know what lies under that expanse of upturned earth. Hundreds of dead bodies, killed by me.

I could not take the sight. I was in such hurry to leave Tarbes I must have worried Bertrand. I was far too insistent when I ordered him to go to La Rochelle and hire as many contractors as he could. Still I managed to finish without collapsing and escaped to my manor in time.

Thirtieth Day of Brimir's Sixth Month

The Blight symptoms have begun in earnest. There is no going back now. The itching of my blood turned to pain. A slow, ever increasing burning filled my veins. I collapsed, unable to move, even speaking was impossible as my voice was lost to me. I just lay in the hallway, whispering out strained pleas for help. It is an unimaginable pain my child, being brought so low I couldn't even call for help. Still, I do not regret my decision to die for you.

It was Siesta who found me, who held me and screamed for the healer. When the healer arrived, she explained that the blight attack would pass, I just needed to breathe. Her words were hardly comforting, but at least Siesta held me until the pain subsided. Matching my breath to hers was was a small beacon of comfort in a bog of pain. She is a good friend my child. Please treat her well.

Siesta has not left my side since. In her words, "I will become the left arm you gave for Tarbes." She moved her bed into my room and sleeps where she can hear me should a blight attack come in the night. I did not protest. The attack left me terrified and lonely. The thought of waking up to that pain, alone in the dark; I do not wish to fathom it.

The healer, a bastard by the name of Blanche, takes after both the literal and informal usage of the term. She plainly stated Blight attacks wouldn't be a danger for months, so a bedside assistant wasn't necessary. However, this bastard is a square class healer lent to me by the Princess herself. Blanche is also the one who prepares the treatments that keep the blight at bay and maintains the wards that protect my unborn child. So, I had to swallow my annoyance and politely decline her advice on that particular matter.

First Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

Though I am yet to have a good nights sleep since the battle, I still felt stronger today. Purpose combined with time has given me a few shreds of will to use. Lucky indeed as I needed to meet with a visitor. One Edward Borde. Though of common birth, I knew the man's name as that of a wealthy merchant. Wealthy enough for me to remember a commoner's name. Wealthier than myself I'd wager. For a man with such funds to have not bought some noble title from Germania is odd, and enough to caution me.

The meeting started with a game. He had come to see me rather than send one of his managers as a show of respect. In addition, he asked to meet me in Tarbes as a "lowly commoner" couldn't assume to visit the home of a noble. I was not fooled by the flattery, but did not call him on it. Still, I came dismounted as flaunting my power after he acted so humble would be both immature and a weakness for him to exploit.

I found the man standing before my POW camp, looking over the listless men milling about. "Quite expensive," were his first words. Money was what that man knew, and he wanted me thinking the same way. Tarbes might have been mine, but I could tell he wanted the territorial advantage. He went on to make some estimates on how much I was paying, quite accurate estimates too. I showed nothing, but I could see the men of the camp turning their attention to us. I feared Edward knew how unsettled I was by the prisoners. Still, my veil should have hid what I let slip.

My calm was only challenged when Edward finally got to business. He wanted to buy my prisoners to work in his salt mines. I held cool and questioned. He would pay me for prisoner rights, and I would no longer have to pay out of pocket to feed the men who attacked me. A fair deal, a solution to an obvious problem even. Yet I did not, _do not_ see it that way.

With jaw clenched I handed my cane to Siesta. The pain that flared in my leg as I put weight on it only fueled my ire. Edward never saw my slap coming. I hit him again and again as my rage became unbound. These were men I screamed. Human beings! Not cattle to be bought and sold! I cursed Edward and slapped him twice more before he stumbled out of reach. I tore off my veil so he could see the conviction in my eyes and threw _that _at him in pure spite. With a voice so filled with hate I hardly recognized it, I told him to leave my lands. If I _ever_ caught him in my territory again I'd have him hung for slavery. Repercussions aside, I will not suffer a slaver one moment more than I must.

I barely manged to take my cane back from Siesta before I fell. Weak as my leg was, I could only stand there and look as imposing as possible while I watched that despicable slaver board his carriage and beat a retreat. I may have made an enemy today, but I will never regret my actions.

Apparently Colbert agrees with me, as the man finally left the POW camp today to visit me in my manor. Over dinner he commended my actions. For once we are in complete agreement on a moral matter. A notion as amusing as any.

I do believe Fouquet enjoys theatrics, as she chose that moment to make her appearance from seemingly nowhere and agree with Colbert's assessment. It seems that even the start of a war didn't delay Fouquet's investigation. Indeed, she informs me she has located the hideout of the Withered Hand. What she plans to do? Take it out herself. My protests were met with offhand mockery. Fine then, if she is that confident in her abilities she either will be fine, or deserves to die a fool's death. Really, calling me a sentimental child; the nerve of that woman.

Second Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

Bertrand returned today with the contractors and work has begun. On what you ask my child? Ah, on your fleet of course. Among the crashed airships there are seven in salvageable condition. Using parts from the other crashes, the contractors will work to get the fleet skyworthy. Of course the contractors' prices are outrageous, but compared to the price of seven new airships it is a pittance. I had planned to put Mott's treasury to use, a merchant fleet for Tarbes' wine exports is a perfect expenditure. Besides, cleaning up the mess on my plains needs to be done anyways.

One might wonder how the La Rochelle contractors have enough manpower despite most La Rochelle residents drafted into repairing the bombardment damage. Well, I have found my solution to the prisoner problem. Though they have to be carefully managed, my prisoners are working for the contractors. This is not slavery; no, I went before the prisoners and laid the deal out perfectly. I could not afford to pay for their food and supplies any longer. They had two choices. One, they could be taken to the Capital and become a prisoner of the country. Or two, they could work for me. I cannot pay foreign soldiers during wartime, but I can issue notes of credit. They can use those notes to purchase food and anything they need from a general trader I have assigned to them. What they save, and I am paying a fair enough wage for them to do so, I will reimburse once the war is over. Such an amount will be enough for them to purchase passage home, or settle within my lands should they prove themselves good residents.

It is not a perfect solution I know, but it is the very best I can do in such an imperfect situation. Indeed, the prisoners seemed quite happy to take the deal. Working for pay rather than rotting in a camp is a step up. Not even one man took the uncertain future of the Capital, which is all the reassurance I need I am being fair.

Another stroke of luck is that Tarbes has not reacted poorly to the news. I conversed with the elder Remus, and he only asked if I was confident with my decisions. I can only guess the lack of complaints is because the attack was stopped before Tarbes suffered any damage. People don't hold grudges as hard when the worst of the damage is a frightening afternoon.

As a side note: I think I may be Professor Colbert's favorite person. The man couldn't stop praising my solution to a grave problem. Tis nice to please the naive man, I do wonder who is the more mature between us. The seventeen year old girl, or the forty year old child. Tease him as I may, the man's constant care for the wounded prisoners has made him an excellent link between myself and them. Though I take his opinion with a grain of salt, he greatly doubts any escape attempts are being planned. It seems my deal coupled with my display against the slaver has put me in their good graces, if still feared as well.

Third Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

Though I have constantly busied myself to distract my mind, I am reaching my breaking point. My interactions with the prisoners have brought those I killed once more the the forefront of my thoughts. Since the battle I have not had an untroubled sleep. My guilt keeps me restless until be exhaustion agitates the blight in my blood. If I am lucky I am just kept awake until exhaustion takes me. On the unlucky nights the agitation will trigger a blight attack and I'll faint from the pain.

The restless nights combined with all I must do stretches me thin. My one reprieve is watching Siesta practice with her blade. As I sit here in the courtyard and write, I watch her go through the motions I taught her with ever growing precision. I take breakfast and my evening tea here in the courtyard so the girl can allow herself to leave my side long enough to practice. Even then I had to convince her I would be fine sitting nearby.

As Siesta improves, I can't help but notice she will soon surpass what I was capable of. I will likely never fence again, nor will I be able to teach her more. Rather than dwell on the sadness that comes with my ruined body, I shall focus on finding a solution to Siesta's approaching problem.

Fourth Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

I truly hope I get used to this Blight soon. The instinct to tear off my skin and itch the blood beneath is maddening. On a day where most of my business was conducted via reports, that distraction is infuriating.

The repairs on the ships is going well. I've told the contractors to focus on the flagship. As the most sturdily built it took the least damage from the crash and is easily the cream of the crop.

Eleanor wrote, detailing a list of idea's involving how to separate the dispelling properties of my magic without destroying the runes of the separation circle. I thanked her, and invited her to visit sometime. It would be incredibly foolish to send word of my willpower exhaustion by mail. It is quickly becoming common knowledge I was behind the defense of Tarbes. Reconquista will be watching.

Sixth Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

I missed my previous day's entry, but I am ever so glad I did so.

The fifth was a terrible day to begin. I rose early filled with the pain of a blight attack. Though the attack itself was short, it only served to make me even more tired than usual. Little things kept going wrong. I dropped my cane, nearly tripped over a rug, and other nuisances piled up one after another. Then, at dinner, I was at my breaking point. It was stupid, I dropped my fork and Siesta brought me another. However, the original utensil was resting by my foot. Siesta hesitated, trying to decide whether or not to bend down and retrieve it despite its proximity. Then, just as I was bursting with a day's worth of irritation, my blood flared with pain. I screamed out in surprise, which drew Siesta to me. But I was so _mad_. Just angry at everything, I screamed at her to leave me alone. I threw my meal from the table, and screamed until Siesta fled the room.

Then, as the pain subsided and I realized how alone I was, I broke down. I cried and cried, alone in the dinning room. With my head pressed against the wild of the table, I sobbed for Brimir knows how long. When I heard the door once again open, I assumed Siesta had returned. However, when the chair next to me was pulled aside, I turned to see who was so bold.

Professor Colbert sat silently next to me and placed a plate before himself, and a spare before me. He mentioned some stupid phrase about keeping my strength up, and began to eat. At first I did nothing, then ate in silence, then I finally mustered the will to ask him why he had come. He just made some stupid joke about freeloading off my good food. What's worse is I laughed at it! A joke too terrible to even remember, and I snort out my potatoes.

We spent some time chatting about little things. Tiny inanities to pass the time. Before I knew it our plates were clean, and the sun was setting. I asked him, asked him how he could be so nice to someone who had killed so many. A man like him who valued life so much had to hate me. But I was wrong, he did not hate me. Instead he asked for a favor, and what a favor it was.

It was difficult, but I walked with Jean into Tarbes. Not atop Alexis nor by carriage; I walked. It was exhausting, but Blanche _had_ said that if my leg was ever going to heal it needed to be exercised. My leg hurt too much for me to realize we never went to Tarbes, instead Jean brought me before the sole headstone of the mass grave. I wanted to leave, to shy away from it. But there with Jean, I found the strength to remain. It was only then, after I had managed to face them, that I knew what I needed to do. Kneeling down with Jean's aid, I said Brimir's prayer for them. Hopefully they can find peace with the Founder.

That was not all, when I rose Jean turned me around to look upon the flickering lights of Tarbes. "They are alive because of what you did." I'll never forget those words. I knew them before, but I believe them now. I shall return to this grave each night, and pray for each man entombed. I do not have enough nights left to pray for them all, but hopefully my efforts will help them still.

My leg was spent after the walk there however. So Jean carried me back to the manor. I assume this, as I do not remember getting back. All I remember is laying my head against my friend's back, and finding peace once again.

When I awoke I was back in my room, and Siesta stood ready with my cane. I nearly cried at the sight of the girl. I do believe I looked rather pathetic sobbing out an apology to my friend. Poor girl was so flustered trying to calm me down.

Still, emotional morning aside, a good night's sleep gave me real strength and renewed vigor. For the first time I felt like I could beat the blight in my veins, if only for a day. Using that vigor, I took a trip into Tarbes to meet with the leaders. It was only for simple things like giving Bertrand to agree to command an airship. Poor man is an expert caravaner, but an airship is a huge step up for his trading. What cut I will take from his profits will be far below what he pays in guards and travel time.

I met with the prisoners as well. There was a debate over whether they should be allowed to buy alcohol, but at Jean's insistence I allowed it. If Jean of all people said men should be allowed to cut lose and drink after a hard day's work, it was likely true. The other request was for the purchase of timber. It seems the barracks are not to their liking, so the men want to build more quarters. This idea of mine is making for some odd situations, but I allowed it as well. I shall have to increase the wages of my guards, this is not the most common of prisons to be sure.

On a last note, I seem to have gained a new nickname. Tis definitely better than the "Zero" from school. From the prisoners to my own villagers, they all seem to be calling me Lady Black. Am I some cliche' villain? I shall have to look into getting a better veil. The only one I own besides my mourning veil is my wedding veil and I'll take somber death over Mott and Wardes any day thank you very much.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I apologize for the shorter chapter, it's only just above 4k words. In truth this and the previous chapter were written together, but they felt better length wise and arc wise to be split up.

Chapter 7

Seventh Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

What do you do when your country is invaded? Well, if you are a Tristainian noble, you hold a ball apparently. I have been invited as the guest of honor to a royal ball celebrating the victory at Tarbes. Well, my victory really. The fact that I lived through my wounds after establishing myself as a national heroine has become surprisingly common gossip. Tis the first good gossip about me ever I imagine.

Though the ball is not truly a frivolity. It is an excuse to gather all the powerful nobles without worrying the common folk. Roughly half the nobles side with Princess Henrietta in her desire to go to war. Germania is signing an alliance, making our numbers tower over the Reconquista's and the invasion at Tarbes puts us wholly in the right. The other half of Tristain is siding with my Father who suggests a blockade of Albion. Without trade, the heads of the Reconquista armies will lose money hand over fist supporting their armies until they buckle and pay reparations.

I know these details so well because letters from both my Father and the Princess arrived today; each asking me to persuade the other. This ball is surely shaping up to be a terrible experience. At the very least it is my Father heading the faction of dissenters. His loyalty is widely renowned, making the fear of civil war non-existent. If Henrietta orders it, my father will obey. However, unless Henrietta can convince Father to agree with her, the nobles under him are likely to drag their feet in supplying support. Wars have been lost for less.

That last notion spurs me more than the quandary of who to support. The nobles of the realm need to support the crown now more than ever. As such, I will take the newly repaired flagship of my fleet to the Capital and present it as a gift. Its worth is greater than any two of my other ships combined, but if I am to do any good for the realm I _must_ set an example while all eyes are on me.

There is one more rather complicated problem. Fouquet returned today. She said the Withered Hand was "taken care of." But after I misinterpreted Mother's meaning, I pressed the issue. Dead, Fouquet killed them all. The woman may hate nobles, but she seems to care little for commoner assassins as well. Their leaders did reveal who hired them. Though I could never prove it in court, I trust Fouquet's information. The one who has been trying to use me to strike at my family is General Gramont.

I doubt my old schoolmate Guiche knows of his Father's actions, but it still feels like somewhat of a betrayal. Indeed, the Gramonts have always been good allies of the Vallieres. Though Father and General Gramont both hold equal power within the military, a slight on Father would tip the balance toward General Gramont. Tis only a guess, but it makes some sense. General Gramont's siding with Henrietta against my Father supports the notion as well.

What is truly vexing is I cannot strike back against General Gramont. If I make a statement to all about unity under the crown, only to turn around and start a feud between the two most powerful military families under that very same crown _during wartime_ I will be the greatest hypocrite of all time. Still, I cannot stand by and do nothing. Gramont will learn that I know in time, and no actions at all would be a show of weakness I cannot afford against an enemy I cannot fully predict.

I have set Fouquet to the task. As for Siesta, I will have to beg her forgiveness and make it up to her somehow. I cannot draw blood over her when doing so could doom Tristain.

Eighth Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

Poor Jean. The man looks positively clumsy testing his dress-suit. A good man, yes. A brilliant researcher, also yes. Suave and confident? No, a thousand times no. I wonder who will put on a worse show of dance at the ball, that clumsy oaf or this crippled girl? Still, my jests at the man's expense aside, I am slightly saddened. Though Jean stayed to care for the prisoners, he has delayed returning to the school for far too long. He shall accompany me to the ball, and then return to the school from there. As thanks for all his help I had a dress-suit made for him, but I think he may view it as punishment. The vest is _salmon_ colored I tell you, not pink.

My dress also arrived today. Though elegant and reserved, I do not like it much. The dress is mostly black, save for a few accents here and there. Despite my displeasure, I stand by my decision. According to Fouquet they are calling me "Lady in Black" in the capital. I can play the role just fine if doing so will put me in a position to help Tristain.

Ninth Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

I left today for the Capital aboard the newly named flagship "Fidélité Noire." Tis about as untactful as names can get, but the name will be easily connected with myself and more importantly the example I plan to set. It will be a reminder to those who have forgotten their priorities.

The trip took most of the day against the wind, but was pleasantly calm. When I finally arrived in the Capital the sun was getting close to setting, and I had one order of business to take care of before I could make for my waiting bed. La Rochelle may hold most of what I need from a market, but there are no wand makers like those of the Capital. While my original cane worked well enough as a foci, the specifically crafted cane I have purchased will make casting spells all the easier. Something I desperately need if I am to be constantly holding this Light Ball hidden from sight.

With my business done I was more than happy to be given a room to collapse in. The fresh air of the sky did wonders for my blight. The trip left me dreadfully tired, but not exhausted. A difference I can truly appreciate. Hopefully this strength lasts throughout the three days of this gathering.

Tenth Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

Well, today was quite the day. Firstly, the herald announced me as "Louise the Black" before all the court, so this nickname is likely set in stone. Again, I shall remember it is a better runic name than Zero. I waited until I was as late as fashionably acceptable, as I knew my strength was a limited resource. By the time I arrived all the major nobles were already present and socializing commenced. The elegant applause I received on entering nearly killed me with embarrassment. I am used to shame, not... _this. _It was then I first thanked the veil obscuring my features, but it would not be the last time that day.

My routine for the party could be boiled down to standing next to the hors d'oeuvre table, or as I called it an emergency leaning device, while countless nobles made their passes at me. Each one wanted to know some little detail I hadn't said yet. Some small snippet they could pass around the gossip vine. My first few retellings went fine, but soon my leg was sore enough to draw my ire. "I only acted in service of the crown." Is what I found worked the best at quieting my inquisitors. My bitter attitude and dark appearance definitely helped.

The meeting with Father was an odd one. Mother is back at home gathering our forces so we had time to ourselves. He is positively ecstatic about his impending grandchild. When I sent out the announcement letters I had hoped to avoid this joy as much as possible. Do not get me wrong child of mine yet to be, I love your grandfather and love that he is happy. Yet guilt grips me for I hide my own approaching death from him. Only for a few more months. Once the army is mobilized and the most important initial stages complete I shall inform him. Just not now.

I did bring up the more somber news of the General Gramont's actions. As I thought he would, he cautioned me against revenge for all the same reasons I knew. In return I asked the same of him. I have subtle strategy to strike back without causing a feud. Hopefully it will come to fruition soon.

After my embarrassment with the applause at my entrance, I was greatly unnerved when I was called before the Princess. Not privately mind you, she is far too busy in the first day of the ball to have time aside. No, this was for her public speech of thanks.

I swear I must have been red as a tomato as the Princess proclaimed her thanks of my defense of Tarbes. She specifically called me "Countess of Tarbes," setting my claim to the fief in stone. My official reward however I still feel was too much. Countess Leandres, the previous ruler of La Rochelle, had died in the bombardment. With no heirs to take over, I was named manager of the port until the Princess found one worthy enough to grant such an estate to. Though I do not own the land, all taxes and tariffs due to the ruler will go to me instead. That, coupled with the easy access to shipyards has me thinking I may have to increase the size of my fleet.

It was a great reward, one I still do not feel worthy of. However, it did allow me a perfect opportunity to pledge my loyalty. I had chosen my words days before. I offered my flagship to the Princess with the precision gained from nights of practice. Each word measured, I impressed how much I wanted to be of service to the crown, as all nobles should. Then, once the polite applause had settled and Henrietta had graciously accepted my gift, I knelt.

At first Henrietta tried to stop me. She said it was an unnecessary action, but I insisted. Though I needed Siesta's help to lower myself to the floor, I knelt all the same and spoke my final words for the nobles around. Even when it is hard, even when it is painful, we _must_ serve the crown together. For if our loyalty only only exists when it is easy, tis no true loyalty at all.

Though Siesta had lowered me to the floor, it was Princess Henrietta who helped me rise once more. Surrounded by applause I rose to meet my liege, my friend. I still remember how I failed her, I shall never do so again.

Eleventh Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

My child, shall I tell you the best part about having Fouquet of the Crumbling Earth as my spymaster? Oh, her information gathering has been excellent and she has instructed me in the way of intrigue perfectly; but these are not her greatest strengths. No, Fouquet is a thief, one of the best at that. Twas when she returned with the prize I asked of her I came to this conclusion.

When I met with General Gramont today, I was wearing his wife's most precious heirloom necklace. No man could mistake a sapphire this big. He knew exactly whose necklace this was, and in that moment he knew I knew who was behind my problems. With veiled words, I spoke of how we must put such frivolities aside in the face of war. He knew he had a choice. He could fight me on the matter, or make peace between us before one of us struck again. I shall at least commend him for making the right choice.

The man has bought the necklace from me for a sum far above its cost. Rather, it is just the right amount for reparations. This was all well and good. I was ready to take those reparations for his slights against me, but there was one more he had slighted. I drew his attention to Siesta at my side, mentioned how she had been attacked twice, and how I very much cared for the girl. "Don't you feel sympathy for her?" I asked just loud enough for others nearby to hear.

I could see his jaw tense, but all the same he conceded. My own power may be a pittance against his, but I am still of the Vallieres _and_ the current hero of our country. He was not about to stand against me over pride. With an apology disguised as sympathy, General Gramont dipped his head to Siesta. Hah! Such a noble bowing to a commoner. Now _that_ will make for some good gossip.

After that things went from sweet to sour, as it was time for the war talks. I was invited behind closed doors to sit at the council of nobles, all of which held at least thrice my power, counting my soon to be completed fleet of course. The first reason I was there was brought up immediately. Could the miracle I performed at Tarbes be repeated? Though I hid my willpower exhaustion, I stated that such a thing was impossible. What I had produced was far beyond what I was normally capable of. Between my injuries and pregnancy I am worse off than even before. Twas only though the hand of Brimir I was able to win. Though such news drew an air of sobriety, twas not unexpected to any. I am sure half of them suspect me unable to cast, and the other half have seen me limping about all day. They know I am in no shape for battle.

After that hope was extinguished, the debate over war versus blockade began. For the most part I side with my Father. He is experienced in the ways of war and favors what is over what should be. Meanwhile Princess Henrietta rode through the night with only the cavalry of the royal army to reach Tarbes. It was a just move, coming to my aid, but it was foolish. Had I not defeated the fleet, Princess Henrietta would have faced a superior force with an army of exhausted men and horses on the verge of collapse.

My Father's points are sound. The logistics of supplying an army on the floating country would be incredibly draining. Unless we wished to take from the local populace, but that would leave us governing a people that detested us. Best case scenario we won the war and lost the country to revolt. Even then, the Reconquista army is staffed _entirely_ by battle-tested veterans now. Each worth at least two of our fresh recruits.

However, Princess Henrietta was not without her own points. Germania was with us now, but there was not telling if they would remain agreeable to war. Each month that passes will dull the memory of Tarbes, lowering our own bolstered moral and claim to righteousness. Finally, her greatest point lied in the cannons aboard the crashed airships. What few they took from the wreckage on my estate had fired far further than our own cannons, yet now they are simply comparable to our own. The enchanters of the Capital cannot determine why. If we blockade, the Reconquista can keep the air battles to small skirmishes, hitting us from outside our range and darting away before we can catch them. The attrition alone could break the blockade and leave us vulnerable to another invasion.

These points were thrown across the table again and again. An hour passed where the only things spoken were the same Brimir damned points. Neither side seemed willing to give. Then, for a reason I cannot remember, I was asked my opinion. As humbly as I could I explained I was inexperienced in the ways of war, but even a child could see we had nothing left. I suggested we reconvene tomorrow and each try to come up with some solution to the other side's issues.

Thank Brimir my proposition was accepted, I could not leave that chamber fast enough. Was this what Father had been doing at all those balls growing up? The poor man.

If the day started sweet and turned sour, it ended with a confusing mix of the two. The long hours of holding my image had drained me, and I snuck off to a secluded balcony. I was barely out of sight when the blight attack hit me. I leaned against the railing, steadied by Siesta and held as firm as possible; breathing until the pain passed. When it did I was dreadfully aware of another presence on the balcony.

When I turned I found Kirche von Zerbst there, studying me. Even now I do not know how much see saw, how much she knows, but all Kirche did was call back through the door for Tabitha. At first I was perplexed at how Kirche could gain an invitation to the ball, but she devilish clicked her tongue at me and stated that there was no party she couldn't get an invitation to. Whatever Tristainian noble she had pining for her must have been disappointing, as the we four spent the rest of the night on that balcony chatting.

I say four, but the chatting was mostly carried by Kirche. Siesta is too formal around unknown nobles to break from etiquette, Tabitha makes rocks seem chatty, and I have become a somewhat reserved socialite. Even so, Kirche knows just how to get a smile out of Tabitha, something wholly entertaining. The Chevalier even asked me how I was finding the book she gave me. To my shame, I have not even begun "The Hero of Ilvaldi." Twas the first time I have ever seen Tabitha look even the slightest bit depressed. I nearly tripped over myself promising to read it and write to her about how I liked it.

Of course Kirche couldn't let the opportunity slip by to quiz me on _her_ book. A notion embarrassing more by her flippant irreverence than by the subject matter. How Kirche can be so elegant and uncouth at the same time boggles my mind. The woman even suggested I name my child after her. Such nerve! That laugh of hers is still infuriating mind you.

Still, I did have fun chatting with the two. Twas only as the evening winded down that I turned to a more somber note. With Kirche before me I wanted to say the words aloud. Sincerely, I thanked her for her help when I had been broken. It was in her typical fashion, but I cannot deny how much she helped me. For once I was the one embarrassing Kirche, as the woman reddened through her tanned skin and downplayed her help. Still, I insisted on my thanks.

With the evening over, Kirche said one last thing to me before she left. "The world hasn't been kind to you Lady Black. If you ever need a hand, call for me. That's what friends are for." Friends. The confusion of the past has been set aside. As odd as it is, Kirche von Zerbst is my friend.

Twelfth Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

I may have gotten myself into a bit of a bind. Talks today were hardly better than yesterday. Though the Princess has conceded the points of moral in favor of simply seeking reparations, she said plainly that while war will be difficult, we _cannot_ fight Albion in the air. She'll take a difficult fight over an impossible one any day. In that moment, all I could think of were the men I killed. Tens of thousands will die on both sides if it comes to war. My heart knew what I had to do, and spoke before my mind could caution it.

I asked that if I could figure out how to produce cannons comparable to Albion's would she agree to a blockade. Henrietta measured me, but in the end accepted my proposal. Even if I fail, the nobles will blame me for being dragged into a war rather than Henrietta. This will help the war effort, but shatter what reputation I have built for myself.

So with lives numbering in the tens of thousands and the threat of once again being made a pariah, I begin to plan. It will take the armies of Tristain and Germania one month to mobilize. I just need to do what the greatest enchanters of the Capital cannot in thirty days. No pressure.

Actually, now that I write it that gives me an idea. As preposterous as it is, it may not be magic giving these cannons such magnificent range. If it was then I would fare no better than an enchanter, that is for sure. So I shall bet on the off chance something mundane is aiding these cannons. I know a man whose specialty lies in the mundane. The only problem? I have no idea how to convince Professor Colbert to develop a weapon.

Thirteenth Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

I found Colbert in the castle courtyard just as he was boarding the carriage to take him back to the school. At first I wasn't sure how to ask him. His soft eyes looked quizzically at me. It felt wrong, asking him what I did, yet I had to. His questioning look turned to confusion, which in turn hardened to grim refusal.

I tried to reason with him. I told him we had to help the crown. I offered him anything in my power. He was the only one I trusted enough to drop my defenses around, and the greatest mind I knew. Flattery and bribery were nothing to the man. He adamantly refused me. He will not build a weapon. That was all there was to it.

Frustrated, I sternly commanded he stop. Yet he just kept walking toward that carriage. I pierced him with my words. This weapon was going to be developed whether or not he helped. The only difference was if he soiled his hands then war might be avoided. Lives rested on finding the secret to these cannons, and I could not do it without him.

Even as I stood there, all but begging, Colbert boarded his carriage and offered me a final goodbye. He said he had believed in words like that once. Staining ones hands to protect others. It was all for naught, and he'll not return to doing evil in the name of good. Then my friend boarded his carriage and left me there.

Damn that man. Damn him and his naive heart.

Fourteenth Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

I arrived home today. The trip took two days by carriage. A length that grated on my already frayed nerves. Still I resent Colbert. How can I do this without him? I could call for Eleanor, but she is already working on the project like her fellow enchanters. I cannot think of one natural scientist to call.

Brimir help me, I know not what to do.

Fifteenth Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

Salvation. Jean arrived by carriage today. I was stunned to see him at my door, and remained so as he listed his demands. He'll take pay only in lost wages. No more, no less. He'll not make money off of this. Second, I am to give my word that I will throw my clout behind stopping any push for war. Lastly, I will remove my veil while we work. He did not like who I was at the ball.

I agreed to all conditions with with a muted nod. There is a pain in Jean's eyes. I know I have put him in a place where he cannot help but resent himself. I likely cannot make that up to him, but I will try.

Rather than research, today was spent bringing in cannons and supplies from the wrecks to the workshop I had constructed. Tis a temporary, simple thing, but it will serve well enough. Jean drew up lists of what tools we needed, and I worked on setting men to the task of acquiring those supplies. The task before us is a daunting one, but I am starting to feel we might succeed.

In the evening I asked Jean accompany me to the grave for my prayers. When I had finished, I turned the man around to look at Tarbes. Just as he had comforted me, I tried my best for him. I told him that if there is war, then men will be drafted to fight and die from Tarbes. This work can stop that. _We_ can stop that.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I am removing the "Days Left" counter. Originally it was meant to be a framing device, but it is just adding unneeded tension. Thank you to those who pointed this out to me.

**Records of Change**

**Chapter 8**

Sixteenth Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

Though Colbert remains cold to me, he made no delay in setting to the task before us. We shall be expanding and refitting one of the warehouses constructed in the impromptu shipyard among the crashed Albion ships. The location will allow easy access to the research materials we need while still being relatively close to my manor. After procuring a list from Jean I have sent servants to purchase what tools we will need in La Rochelle.

My current role as both Jean's supplier and assistant gave me ample time with the man. Perhaps the coldness I spoke of would likely be better labeled as tension. He makes no biting comments nor do I feel resentment from him. Yet from the way he throws himself entirely into the business of preparing the workshop I can tell he fights himself over the decision he made. There is a lasting regret in the man that hangs like a fog over his temperament.

As such, I invited him with me on my evening walk. It was unfair of me to leverage my disability to force the man to come, I'll admit that much. Yet I do not regret the manipulation. Just as he had shown me the light in my actions, I showed him his own. After my prayers I could see him focusing on his soon to be workshop with a look of dull resignation. It was only by my request that he turned from the dark horizon to the lights of Tarbes below. I listed off every name I could. From Betram to Samuel; all boys who would not be drafted into a war on foreign soil. Young men who would not die because of what we would do.

Colbert remained silent almost our entire return trip. It was only after I had ascended the stairs to my room did Colbert speak. "Thank you." The words were soft, yet I heard them clearly.

Seventeenth Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

My order from La Rochelle arrived today. While the majority of the package were tools I quickly sent on to the workshop, there was still a package left over once that business was taken care of. A finely crafted messenger golem. The clay bird is faster than its living counterpart, if more easily intercepted. I am sure I shall hear some complaints from its intended recipient about having to supply willpower for both her messages and my own, Eleanor does enjoy letting others know the favors she does for them. I shall bear those complaints though, the speed of the relay between my sister and myself will be worth it. My eldest sister has also been set to the task of these cannons and any insight she has will inevitably be valuable.

As I am on the subject of overbearing women, Agnes arrived today on Henrietta's order to inspect my work camp. A perfectly acceptable command to be sure, but I soon found it out for the ruse it was. Agnes' primary task was saved for after her official report. Twas funny, seeing the stern woman's face shift to embarrassed unease before 'delivering' Henrietta's warm embrace. Odd as it was, I could not help but be comforted by the expression. Until now there has been doubts in the back of my mind, worries that Henrietta resents me still. Yet in this strange, unorthodox way, my friend has put my mind at ease. As a bonus Agnes' discomfort is quite amusing. If hugging me embarrasses Agnes this much, I can only imagine how red her face was when Henrietta embraced her.

I sigh as my mind wanders back to the ball. Among all the other nobles I played the game of appearances. Henrietta could voice no friendly concern for me before others. Instead she had to play the role of grateful monarch. Even my own father could not express compassion over my lost arm and disfigured body. Though I could feel his gaze and he offered soft words to me, yet nothing open could be said. To show weakness, to show regret over the act that saved Tristain. These were things that could be leveraged against us. It is only in our private moments that we can return to being human. In times like these I wonder how different my life would be were I born a commoner.

Eighteenth Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

With the workshop operation today marked the first day of earnest research. I am more of an assistant than a true partner to Colbert, but I am studied enough that Jean seems to be able to bounce ideas off of me. My one arm is usually occupied with my cane so I am not even able to handle the task of retrieving the man's tools. Rather, I spent most of my time sitting at the end of the worktable jotting down whatever theories got tossed between us. Truly, I must be the most highly ranked scribe there ever was.

The cannons themselves are perplexing. Just as the royal enchanters before him had found, Colbert found no enchantment remnants besides the usual metal warping runes. Simple things that bent the barrel to prevent the use of captured cannons against their creators. Without the proper sigil rune there was no returning them to a functional state. At least, not without expending more willpower than was required to simply melt them down and transmute the iron into a new cannon.

We prepared an magic empowering runic circle to draw out any hidden or fading enchantments and Colbert charged it before we ended our work for the evening. Though we both doubted it would find anything if the royal enchanters failed, it would be negligent not to check. Besides, debating over the circle's construction with Jean was the only time the man's demeanor brightened. I wont bore you with the specifics but I stand by my assertion that alternating power and control runes would draw out an enchantment quicker.

Though the preliminary work took most of the day and stretched on into the evening, we can at least begin our work in earnest tomorrow. Colbert's brief moment of levity had all but faded when we took our evening walk out for my prayers. Though the man had returned to silence, I feel as though the fog between us softened since yesterday. Tis a small boon, but one I will gladly take.

Nineteenth Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

I awoke this morning struggling to breathe though the pain brought on by the blight within me. Tis a terrifying thing, to wake up in such pain and your voice snatched from you by your own shortened breath. Yet Siesta was there, holding me to her chest as I slowly worked to match her breathing. Her soft voice and warm heart are like a beacon in the night. I cannot help but be reminded of my sister Cattleya, whose gentle warmth comforted me throughout my childhood. Someday I would like to introduce the two I think.

When I was once more in control of myself Siesta was quick to summon Blanche. As ever the healer's stony temperament makes me wonder if she is simply a well disguised golem. Yet I do not doubt her skill. Her spells pass over me softly as a gentle breeze. Tis only because I recolonize the shortened incantations spoken under her breath that I know she is dual casting healing and diagnostic spells with ease. Once done she simply said that I was fine to work today before excusing herself. If Blanche caught the sour look from Siesta she didn't react. As a note I shall remember not get between the two if they ever come to blows.

Due to my illness I was late to Colbert's side. Jean's curiosity as to my tardiness was quickly shut down by mentions of feminine bleeding. I pains me to lie so plainly to my friend and I know I should inform him as to my condition; yet if only for a short while longer, I do not want to tell him. I do not want to tell anyone.

Twentieth Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

I found a way to pay back some of the debt I owe to Siesta. Though most of Agnes' day is spent on inspections, she has ample time to practice her swordplay. At my request the Chevalier has agreed to offer a few lessons so Siesta. Funny, I pay back one debt by while becoming indebted to another. Not the soundest of business practices. Still, Agnes seemed intrigued at the prospect. I am sure Agnes sees much of herself in Siesta. Both being commoner women taking up the sword.

When the two met for sparing I watched from my usual spot at the garden tea table. Honestly I was quite surprised. Siesta iss easily a good with her blade as I was at my best, yet she was but a child compared to Agnes. The Chevalier showed her title was not ill-obtained as she parried each of Siesta's strikes with the grace of a cat. At some point the spar became a lesson as Agnes would stop Siesta and adjust her form, offering tips as she raised an arm or adjusted Siesta's stance. Siesta was bruised and beaten by the end of the ordeal, but undeniably inspired; filled with an energy she carried throughout the day.

Of course I had to leave soon after for my own work. As expected no enchantments were revealed by our efforts and we began to turn our attention to natural methods in earnest. The cannons themselves are slightly longer than our Tristain's, yet not by enough to cause a difference. Still, with the aid of prepared magic circles, Jean was able to transmute a few comparable cannons with differing barrel lengths. Though the range gained was only minimal, we did concluded that the longer barrel design was a benefit. Tristain had not updated its cannons alongside the advancements in blackpowder refinement, so a slightly longer barrel could take advantage of the more powerful charge. Still, our range was only increased by about a tenth, not the nearly doubled range of our opponents.

One small anecdote, Colbert looks quite funny covered in soot. I doubt he appreciated my jeers, but I jested all the same.

Twenty-First Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

Though I doubt Tabitha will be pleased, I did finish her book last night. The reason I doubt she'll be pleased is that I may have been slightly passionate in my letter to her. The book was wonderfully written, I wont deny that. Yet there is one glaring flaw in it that bothers me ever more so when compared to the rest of the excellent story. The princess the Hero of Ilvaldi sets off to rescue does nothing! She accepts her state and never once tries to escape. The character herself is wonderfully eloquent, written so well you cannot help with empathize with her, and a truly good person; yet she does not even attempt to hinder her captors or aid the hero in any way! Its infuriating a character I like so much would be so, well, _useless._ Hopefully Tabitha will forgive my impassioned response.

Research occupied most of my day today. With no enchantments found the majority of our time was spent preparing more transmutation circles for Colbert and tossing ideas back and forth on how to best optimize cannon length and design. We did prepare a list of factors that added and subtracted from length, and plan to go over them one by one in the coming days.

A letter from Mother arrived requesting a visit as she was nearly done mobilizing the Valliere troops. I have delayed my response for now with the excuse that I am distracted by research. The truth of the matter is if Mother visits I will not be able to hide my condition. I still... I still do not want her to know.

Twenty-Second Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

Eleanor's reply arrived today. Its is almost humorous how quickly the woman got through her congratulations on my victory. After all, when there is learning to be done what else could possibly matter? On that matter Eleanor insists she detected a shape altering enchantment on the cannons, yet admits her colleagues do not support her. Even still she insists the remnants were there. For them to be so faint so quickly the enchantment would to have been dreadfully minor. Barely enough to even alter an emblazoned emblem. Nothing that would truly change the cannon's shape. The rest of the letter was unceremoniously addressed to Colbert; detailing expected spell construction of such a minor enchantment that was above my understanding of spell theory. After showing the letter to Colbert we spent the day debating which of our categorized factors could be affected by such a small change in shape. Obviously length and powder charge were out. Yet the others seemed just as implausible.

Twenty-Third Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

With our research somewhat stalled, Colbert and I have decided to take the Founder's day to rest and come back tomorrow with fresh ideas. As such I found myself watching Agnes and Siesta spar while Alex lay next to me. the manticore no longer is ashamed at the sight of my limp, but rather has begun to dote on me. I enjoy such attention when the beast cozies up to me on relaxing afternoons such as this. However, when said attention takes the form of half a deer dropping out of the sky onto my courtyard I find it slightly less endearing.

Maybe it is his young age, but Alexis is easily the least regal manticore I have ever encountered. Twas late in the day i had to visit Tarbes to calm a shaken woman. Apparently Alexis had found some children playing in the woods whilst he was hunting for his dinner. And rather than leave them be the best had played with them into the evening, getting deer blood all over their clothes. Then the children had come running into the village covered in blood followed by a manticore. Between children who think playing with manticores is a perfectly acceptable pastime and a manticore who agrees, I fear another month has fallen off of my lifespan.

Twenty-Fourth Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

Blanche reinforced the wards protecting my child and preformed a more in depth health checkup today. Though she states I am about as well as can be hoped for at the moment, she did explain what to expect in the coming months. Muscle deterioration, pain, exhaustion, lung degeneration and finally heart failure. Not the most pleasant of notions from not the most pleasant of people. Still, I must remember to be grateful. Blanche is one the best healers in the entire kingdom, if not world. A bastard does not become the princess' personal healer without prodigious skill. Were Blanche not a bastard I have no doubt she would be quite famous.

On that note, Blanche's blunt nature does have its benefits. When I tactfully apologized for being the reason she was removed from her more honorable duties she scoffed. _Scoffed! _The scoundrel said she was more than happy to study manticore blight from beginning to end. Tis now I realize the woman is keeping a research journal detailing my last days. Lovely!

Twenty-Fifth Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

I avoided mention our research yesterday out of respect for Colbert's growing frustration. Though he did not expect much from our basic tests, he was hoping for some sort of lead to follow. We have tried detailed every possible change a minor shift in shape could create, yet nothing even points at increased range. With no tests to perform, the man can only stare down the cannon before him and as his annoyance builds. Without actions to take, i can tell the man's mind drifts back toward the grim nature of our task.

Guilt creeps at me when I notice his eyes downcast, obvious ruminating on lives that will be lost if he succeeds. I remember when i found him among the Albinian captives. He had tended to the wounds of those men, comforted those who would soon slip into the next life, and now he engineered a weapon to slay their countrymen. Still, it is a task we must complete. More would die if we washed our hands of it.

Twenty-Sixth Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

Tabitha's reply came today. A note with only two words, "Good point." I expected a short response to be fair, but I do wish the girl would speak her mind more, if only in writing at least. Still, maybe I will be able to pry more out of her next time we meet.

Speaking of short replies, Fouquet is obviously on edge. The usually tight-lipped shadow has become even more terse. I have had her managing the repairs on La Rochelle officially, and expanding her information network in the port whilst there. When we spoke she was only interested on the prospects of war and the blockade. Obviously unnerved, she expressed hope my research would succeed. I suppose even someone has hard as her is still human. As for her reports there was nothing I didn't already expect. The only true oddity was the news that Ragdorian Lake was flooding. Refugees would possibly migrate to my lands, but more likely toward the capital. La Rochelle was recovering at a steady pace and was more or less fully functional. If our research bore results the factories stood ready and the iron reserves were stocked.

Agnes was next on my list of appointments. Her reports were mixed. On the one hand she is glad to see the hike in taxes has gone into the town itself and is satisfied with my treatment of the prisoners of war. On the other she warned of their low security and my limited military. I have a house guard of ten to compliment Tarbes meager militia. If the prisoners were to revolt we would be heavily outnumbered. Honestly I hadn't realized the sorry state of Tarbes' militia until now. The town needs a real guard captain and I need a larger house guard. Both of which I'll set Fouquet to the task of acquiring on her next trip to La Rochelle.

Twenty-Seventh Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

A "gift" arrived today. If those quotes did not due it justice I will elaborate; a thinly veiled threat arrived today. Edward Borde sent me a bottle of manticore venom. If asked I am sure he would say its a simple gesture of goodwill. A moderately expensive alchemy ingredient to smooth over our past disagreements. Yet I know it for what it is. Manticore blight and venom react with each other. Alone the blight can weaken and kill over time. Alone the venom is a strong paralytic, easily capable of stopping the heart of most creatures. Together they magnify on another; allowing the blight to destroy the body in minutes and the poison to overpower even the strongest of resistances. Tis why a manticore is so dangerous even to a disease immune dragon or a poison resistant bog-hound. A drop of this venom would kill me in moments.

Mr. Borde knows I carry the blight. He's likely had me watched and I know he has a keen enough mind to put the pieces together. The question is if this venom is a merely a threat or an all our declaration. Not that it matters; I set Fouquet to the task of finding out more. I'll not be bullied by a slaver. The woman was only too happy to oblige as slavers seem to fall within her acceptable list of targets. Though she did complain when I ordered her to _only_ gather information. If this is only posturing I have bigger things to deal with. However, if Borde is truly moving to oppose me I will be ready.

Twenty-Eighth Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

Stress built within me throughout the day. Edward Borde could expose my weakness at any time, and I realize now that I must tell those I care about on my own terms. Still, when I think of Henrietta, when I think of my family, I do not know how to proceed. In my frustration I was terse with Jean throughout our work. The man was quick to pick up on my foul mood, yet tactful enough not to confront me. Yet that only infuriated me all the more. I was about to snap at him over some fabricated slight when I reached my limit. Encouraged on by my stressful state, my blood flared and my breathe fled from my lungs. Under the strain of the blight attack I would have crumpled to the floor had Jean not caught me.

Though the attack was short, there was no denying it. Jean only halted his calls for help when I placed my hand over his lips. Softly and slowly I explained my condition as best I could. The man was smart, he had expected something, just not the finality of my diagnosis. I could see he was searching for some words of comfort, but his voice remained silent. No pithy expression would heal me. I will die, that is all there is to it. Though I lay there cradled in his arms, I could feel myself drifting from my friend, a wall of separation brought on by the silence.

Even in the evening when we walked to the gravestone I could feel our distance. More so than the blight I carried, that distance hurt.

Twenty-Ninth Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

Today Colbert took me to see the Dragon's Raiment. Twas a painfully poor attempt to cheer me up and repair our connection, yet still I appreciated it. The trip itself was taxing. Even though I rode Alexis most of the way, I had to pass through the cavern on foot as the passageway was too small for the manticore and flying over the passage was too dangerous for me. Colbert rambled on about designing a specialized saddle, a kind thought if unlikely. Such rambling was an obvious cover for the strain between us. The man has too modes when stressed; rapid intellectual discourse, and silent contemplation.

Still, the artifact itself is quite odd. Colbert poured over the device, mentioning his ideas on its design and wondering over who could have made such a thing. Slowly, his enthusiasm softened me enough to make a quip about how silly it was that the nose could spin. Now that, _that _was where Jean has his moment. He said something about expecting the curvature of the blades to push the air like a self functioning sail and then froze. "Push the air." He repeated. Once again he proclaimed the idea as if it were a gift from the founder himself!

With haste the man rushed us back to Tarbes. I would have been upset by the man carrying me through the tunnel, but his excitement stilled my reservations. Once beyond we rode Alexis as fast as the great beast would carry back to our prepared transmutation circles. On the way Jean had explained. If the cannon could be modified in such a way to make the ball itself _spin_, then the air before it would be pushed out of the way, lowing the amount of force slowing it down.

We worked til sundown, designing an inner barrel swirl that would put the right amount of spin on our cannonballs without slowing the shot with friction inside the barrel. The sun was setting when we managed it. We fired a shot nearly twice the distance a Tristainian cannon could. We have done it. With a completely mundane design we have averted war.

Our celebration was nearly ruined when I nearly had a bright attack. Just as Colbert embraced me my heart rate skyrocketed and my face burned, but not even the blight could stop me. Just barely I managed to keep control of myself and truly enjoy our success.

Thirtieth Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

I am exhausted. Today was full of busywork. While Jean perfects our design I mobilized La Rochelle's factories and sent word out of our success. I made sure to credit Eleanor for her contribution, noting the use of an incredibly minor enchantment to smooth the inner barrels if the ships were to crash. I chuckle at the thought of her lording that over her colleagues. Also now that I have confirmation that I'll use it, I have called for large sums of iron. I plan to fit every ship in both Tristain's and Germania's fleet with the new cannons. They all have to stop and resupply on the way to the front regardless so this method will be most efficient. As a side note, Colbert and I are about to be very, very wealthy. Even selling these at the lowest price I can without appearing weak, I will still make an sizable amount of gold.

Luckily I still had time to converse with Colbert on our evening walk. Though both of us were quite tired from our day, it was nice to be able to simply recount the our activities to one another. It was only on the return trip that my day soured. Near the end of it my heart rate spiked once more and my face flushed. Jean had said something, I forget what though. All I know is i worry of this new symptom, I'll have to consult Blanche tomorrow.

Thirty-First Day of Brimir's Seventh Month

Blanche has assured me that my new symptoms are unrelated to my condition. Though I did not believe her at first I no longer question her knowledge. Why you ask? Well that's because I can once again use magic! Obviously the symptoms were just a result of my willpower returning! Thank Brimir! I nearly cannot contain myself. Once more I can dive into my magical research with abandon. Though I was careful, I did run though a few exercises. An explosion here, a light there. Nothing that stressed my reserves, but magic all the same.

Of course I hardly had time to practice even then with such a wonderful event. I had to take a trip into La Rochelle to oversee the factories and contract earth mages. Honestly between that trip and my magic, I am quite ready for bed. Yet I still have my walk to do. Good night for now.

First Day of Brimir's Eighth Month

Cannon production has begun, with La Rochelle's defenses the first to be refitted. Henrietta's decision of a blockade was officially sent out and all ships are mobilizing. Soon a steady stream of airships will be arriving. Yet even with this news, Colbert has soured. With his design perfected and job done, he no longer has the high of success to distract him from what has transpired. Though not as dejected as he was when we began our work, I can see the spark of energy wane within his eyes. I pressed him, sensing something more, and what I received only added to the guilt I bore.

The academy has given Colbert the rest of the year off. He was gone so long between his extended leave and our work here that they have decided to use his substitute for the rest of the year. Though he can return next year, the man is without the work he loves for months to come. Even then, whose to say what the academy will decide if this new teacher does his job well? Shouldn't an accomplished inventor be assisting the capital directly?

The foul mood the news brought made the man irritable when I asked for his signature on the patent documents later that day. He said that the cannons were weapons for killing, he'd make no gains from his hand in this. Now I sit here looking at an unsigned patent deciding what to do. Without Colbert's signature I cannot patent the cannon. Without a patent the cannon may as well be sold at cost. Not the worst of prospects to be sure, but I will look weak and will undoubtedly sacrifice some political weight. At best I can make it look like it is an act of fealty. Though then I'll look more like a zealot to be dismissed rather than a paragon to be imitated. Fool man, the proper course is to make _some_ money. Nobles did not follow the path of paupers, but a humble yet still affluent option? That could sway them.

Still, I look to the patent. Colbert keeps his seal within my strongbox. Now _that_ is an idea.

Second Day of Brimir's Eighth Month

Agnes leaves today. She delayed at my request to train Tarbes' militia. Nothing major, but at least now they have some proper drills to follow. Two young girls leave with her to become musketeers. Nothing unexpected really. In truth, I was relieved that Siesta was not among them. I would not stop my friend if she decided to leave, and I know Agnes had offered a position, yet Siesta decided to stay with me. For that I feel blessed.

What was odd was when Colbert entered my office as Agnes left. He had only come to deliver a list of supplies he needed for studying the Dragon's Raiment, yet Agnes gave him quite the harsh gaze. Though in retrospect I can assume the two likely had previous disagreements. Pacifists and soldiers don't tend to get along.

As for Colbert himself I had to keep the conversation short. I doubt he suspects anything but until my plan is ready he cannot catch on. I only need maintain this subterfuge until tomorrow, then there will be no stopping it.

Third Day of Brimir's Eighth Month

Colbert caught on to my plan earlier than I intended, yet late enough that he could not stop me. The man all but stormed into my office and asked my why I did it. Why I forged his signature and used his seal to sign all cannon rights for the patent over to myself. I had planned to reveal my intent in more delicate matter, but we must make do with what we are given. Simply, I turned to the window behind me and said "That is why." The empty plain beyond rightly confused the man, which stilled his anger long enough for me to explain.

The plain itself was the future location of Colbert's Academy of Natural Sciences. What funds would normally go to the patent holder will go toward building an institute dedicated to learning and improving the lives of common folk. With all the resolve I could muster I told Jean that good intentions can always be used for evil ends, but so to can the evil of a weapon be turned to good ends. I can handle the building of facilities and contracting of support staff, but it will need a headmaster to hire the teachers and researchers. A man who can guide what it will accomplish and who it will accept as students. I told him I knew a brilliant man fit for the job, but wasn't sure if he would take it. After all, Jean Colbert could be rather flighty at times.

A/N: Give that bitch a school. Bitches love schools.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: With more free time in my life I decided to get back into writing. I'm just going to continue what stories I feel like for now as I refresh my skills. Honestly I'm starting to remember the joy I found in the act of writing itself, so yay! Luckily I still had all my notes and outlines for my stories so it wasn't hard for me to remember what happens next. This and the next chapter are done as they were originally one chapter that feels better pacing wise when I split it into two. Don't expect the next immediately as it hasn't been reviewed and proofread like this half. As always I appreciate constructive criticism, especially now that I am inevitably rusty.

Hopefully this kind of thread necromancy isn't unwelcome.

Records of Change

Chapter 9

Fourth Day of Brimir's Eighth Month

I do not regret my decision to construct Colbert's academy. I state that first just to be clear. However, that does not mean the prospect is a simple one. Between making sure all of La Rochelle's factories are tooled properly for the cannons and hiring contractors for the school, my day was incredibly busy and filled with paperwork. At least I still know plenty of trusted contractors who worked on my fleet of ships. On that note; of the remaining six ships two are fully functional and the last four will be ready within the next two weeks. I had prioritized the smaller sloop I plan to use for personal transportation and the larger galleon which I intend to commit to the blockade effort. The final four galleons will make fine trade ships. With plenty of cargo space and yet still very much military vessels, they will need no other escort besides themselves. I have assigned Betrand to the selection of their trade routes. As a simple caravan trader, such a role is above what his experience covers, but his loyalty is what I value. His first trade mission will try him in all likelihood, but if he succeeds I will have a resource worthy of the gamble. Besides, I have enough funds to cover a loss without issue.

Speaking of funds... The first wave of down-payments for the improved cannons arrived today; a small mountain of gold ecu if put together. Twas enough to cause my resolve to waver, if only for a moment. Gold has a way of enticing the greed that lies within people. Still, I repressed the urge to roll around in the gold like a storybook dragon and set my mind to dividing it. The portion that would normally go to the patent holder was set aside for the school, but that which would be paid to the manufacturer, well that was rightfully mine. A smaller amount after production costs were factored in, but a large sum all the same. The lions share of the profit will be spent stocking my trade ships. With limited commercial traffic in La Rochelle, plenty of warehouses remain full of goods their merchant owners are in desperate need to sell. A prime opportunity if I do say so myself. Sadly, the only lacking resource is iron. I have enough stocked for now, but the delayed responses from Tristain's iron merchants irks me. They should be scrambling to win my favor, yet each one has yet to reply to my letter. Well, commoners will go to ground in times of war, that much can be expected.

Another boon of the school construction is I have another project to assign to the prisoners. With the sloop and warship done, there were plenty without roles. For now the school will occupy them, yet I know there will be a surplus once the entirety of my fleet is completed. I will need to look in to how to direct this excess labor. As it is my edict that demands these men work despite being prisoners, it is therefore my responsibility to make sure they have a task. And as well my headache to balance my accounting book with all the notes of credit I issue to said men. Oh dear, I suppose I better get to that.

Fifth Day of Brimir's Eighth Month

It seems my worries over the iron merchants were well founded. I have underestimated that snake Borde. Fouquet has returned with news that Edward Borde has covertly contacted the whole of Tristain's iron merchants and convinced them to unanimously delay. When the time comes that I can no longer bargain they shall come and offer the same price. One that will leave me creating cannons at cost. Such a trust is illegal to be sure, but knowing and proving of a plan are two very different things. Of course I could go to Henrietta and ask she set a fair price, but it would undermine every bit of political clout I have scrapped together if I come crawling to complain about commoners to a liege in the middle of war. Money or political sway, I'm set to lose one regardless of what I do. Damn that snake! Founder damn Edward Borde!

I will need to form a plan. Surely I can outmaneuver Borde.

Sixth Day of Brimir's Eighth Month

Between the schemes of a snake and my previous responsibilities, my day was one of stress and annoyance. Of course said dour mood agitated my blighted blood. Which in turn only served to try my already paper thin temperament. I do not lash out at my servants like many a noble, but they shied away from me all the same. Objectively I know I am an imposing sight when angered. I only wear my veil when I venture outside my home, and my bare face is not a pretty sight. A scowl set to such a visage surely frightens them, yet that only rouses my anger all the more. Only Siesta seems unaffected. Ever present, she shadows me so well I forget she is there at times. When she steps forward to open a door, help me down the stairs, or some other simple task I no longer grow angry at least. I have come to accept that such help is needed. Tis better to be grateful for such a friend rather than angry at a world that took my arm from me.

Though I suppose my better outlook on those sour notes in my life along with my currently improved mood can be attributed to Jean. While Siesta simply offered silent support without judgement, Jean was less subtle in his handling of my venomous temperament. The man interrupted my tea time, sitting next to me rather than across the table and without invitation. An affront to propriety twice over that I was quick to jab at him in my insolence. Unaffected the man blatantly stated that I should discuss whatever was bothering me. He said my stress was obvious and Blanche was clear that stress was surely bad for my health. I said something about being treated like a prized hog, a statement ignored for the trap it was. Instead the man embraced me! AHHG! That man has absolutely _no_ sense of manners! Any condemnation I had faltered within my throat the instant Jean began stating what truly bothered me. That I was so dedicated to doing as much as possible so I wouldn't have to accept my condition. It was true. The stresses with Borde, the school construction, managing La Rochelle; these things weighed on me, but I focused so much on them because I still did not want to tell those I love that I will die.

I don't know how long I cried, surely far more than was proper. But as all my stress and stubborn strength leaked out with those tears, I found resolve in Jean's arms. I know now that I can delay no longer. I will call for my parents, ask them to visit while mother is near with the Valliere troops. Then I will tell them their daughter is dying.

Seventh Day of Brimir's Eighth Month

Jean Colbert is a true friend. I will admit I have a rather small pool of friends to compare him to, but I still believe my assessment to be accurate. From a purely objective perspective I can say that his presence allows me to relax, that we enjoy debating topics ranging from academic to philosophical, and that he cares for my well being. These qualities are undeniable, but I believe there is another reason I value his companionship so. I can be weak around him. An odd statement, as the feeling of weakness _should_ be negative. Yet I do not retract my statement. That he allowed me to face my own failings without reproach yesterday did my spirits far more good than I otherwise expected.

Or maybe it is as Siesta so eloquently put it and I simply needed a "good cry."

Regardless, my renewed vigor was a most welcome boon today. It was difficult, sending a letter to my parents to request their presence. This news is something I wish to speak of in person. Soon my mother will be bringing the Valliere forces to the front where my Father works with the other generals. It will be an opportune time to meet with them as Tarbes is not more than half a day by manticore from Father's forward camp.

The second of my hurdles was dealing with the unwritten trust among Tristain's iron merchants. I combed through every tax log in my late husband's records, searching for a domestic solution. Sadly there was no solution contained within. Those nobles that owned iron mines all sold what was mined to the very merchants that united against me and kept no surplus for themselves; at least, not near enough to supply the vast amounts I require.

I suppose I could attempt to meet with one of the iron merchants in person. However, I balk at such a notion. Any businessman worth his salt will sniff out that I am aware of their trust and I will be left with no advantage to leverage beyond threats. Besides, I am not so naïve as to think Borde will be unprepared for any advance within his own area of expertise. No, if I am to outmaneuver that man I must move in a way he will not predict. That leaves searching for a solution beyond Tristain's borders.

Romalia is out, the Pope is enforcing a strict policy of neutrality. Gallia is notorious for operating at a deficit for several metals, iron included, so that is no option. That of course left our new ally, Germania. Looking back on my writing my trepidation is quite evident. I can see my solution and I know it is one that Borde will not expect; of course, that is with good reason. There is a great house in Germania that draws a large portion of its wealth from a vast array of iron mines and refineries; the ancient enemy of the Vallieres, the Zerbsts.

Normally I would write such an idea off as a flight of fancy. Even accounting for our countries being currently allied, I have doubts I would even be allowed to _meet_ with the head of the Zerbst family, let alone manage to engage in trade. Yet I do have an advantage to cross that initial hurdle. Kirche Zerbst. While her status as a black sheep is hardly a secret, her word will still gain me access to her home and a meeting with her father. After that I simply have to convince a man to set aside generations of hate born in blood. Right... Simple. I wonder if it would simply be easier to pay the conniving merchants of Tristain rather than this less than appealing alternative.

Well, enough delaying with my diary, I will send a messenger pigeon to Kirche immediately, she should be at the academy. In my defense, she did offer me a favor back at the ball.

Seventh Day of Brimir's Eighth Month

I await Kirche's reply with no shortage of anticipation. My rational mind cautions me that even should she reply immediately, I cannot expect a reply faster than tomorrow morn. Yet I caught myself looking to the sky at several points throughout the day all the same. Fortunately I had time today to once again devote several hours to experimenting with my magic. Truly, I had forgotten how relieving such exercises were.

It should be noted that since regaining the use of my magic I have significantly greater control. Both my accuracy and desired power of explosion have improved by margins exceeding what I would write off as simply being born of practice. Perhaps completely draining my willpower gave me some unconscious measure of the exact amount of power I use? Bah, that is baseless conjecture, one I am currently unwilling to test as I cannot guarantee that no ill effects will come from draining my willpower once more.

There is one more surprising gift born of my willpower exhaustion. During the time I lacked more than a trickle of willpower, I carefully maintained a light orb hidden from sight at all times in case I needed to cast a spell. Not a real replacement, but it served its purpose. Beyond that, such an exercise has left me with the ability to maintain a light orb with the same autonomy one continues to breathe. The light is useful from time to time, but having access to an instantly cast explosion could no doubt prove useful in the turbulent times to come. I shall endeavor to expand my ability to maintain light orbs. Beyond that, I think I shall experiment with adjusting my light orb spell, perhaps in shape, color, or effect can be altered.

Eighth Day of Brimir's Eighth Month

Though perhaps showing Kirche my eagerness was a mistake, I left immediately after her reply arrived this morning. Her flourishing penmanship clashed with the succinct, almost Tabitha-esque reply accepting my request to introduce me to her Father. Time simply wasn't on my side as my own iron reserves are quickly disappearing.

My sloop made the trip to the Magic Academy quickly enough, despite my worries I would even call the short trip pleasant. There is something about the cool wind and gentle movements of the ship that calms me. I brought along Alexis as a growing manticore needs long flights I cannot give him in my current state. Watching him play in the drafts created by my sloop's windstones helped me ignore any creeping stresses. Still, that reprieve ended once I arrived at my one time home. It was... odd being back at the academy. My life there seemed so long ago. Kirche delayed me at the entrance, saying she still had to track down Tabitha whom she had decided to drag along. Though Kirche greeted me with her usual sing song flair for wordplay, I could sense an underlying displeasure. No doubt her delay in acquiring Tabitha was some minor punishment for my ambitious request.

Currently we reside in the Nymph's Rest Inn. The last leg of the journey will be completed tomorrow, it wouldn't do to fly through the day and arrive late at night. I will not expend what little good favor Kirche's word will buy me by arriving like a vagabond.

Kirche's humors did improve during the day's flight at least. She seems to have taken to Alexis; and, I admit, he to her. My manticore is quite the friendly beast true, but he seems to especially enjoy when she scratches behind his ear. Though Alexis is my mount, not my familiar, I still find myself jealous of his quick affection for the redhead. Such affection does have its benefits I suppose, as even Tabitha softened upon seeing how well Sylphid and Alexis got along.

As a side note, my sloop is overly crowded with both a manticore and dragon resting on deck. No doubt my sailors were equal parts annoyed and unnerved by their presence when the two weren't flying alongside the ship.

On the subject of side notes, I find myself wanting to mention a particularly odd encounter. While I was waiting for Kirche at the academy Montmorency stumbled upon me at the entrance. On what I believe to be reflex, she called out to me by my old label, "Zero." Honestly, I was mildly confused by how what once had infuriated and dominated my spirit elicited only momentary surprise from me now. Of course, as I was wearing my veil my confused silence must have seemed like some glare, as Montmorency mumbled an apology soon after. I am not sure who was more surprised by her apology, myself or her. I waved her off at the time, but now as I ponder on the encounter I cant help but stew on how much I have changed.

Ninth Day of Brimir's Eighth Month

At full sail my sloop is only slightly outpaced by Sylphid and Alistair at their maximum speeds. Of course, it can maintain that speed far longer than the two. A feature that came in useful as I was careful to get the two of them playing while we were still in Tristainian sky. I wanted them worn out and resting aboard the sloop for our brief trip in Germanian territory.

Besides that minor diversion, the rest of the trip was pleasant enough. I do believe Kirche is seducing my sloop's Captain as the man blushes whenever she turns her sultry gaze upon him. I should look into hiring a wind mage to act as captain. A bastard or lower noble with some training or experience in command. Tabitha herself was as silent as ever, only really speaking when I brought up my review of her favored novel. There is a certain... I shall say resolution in her voice when I talk of my concerns on the heroine, almost as if she were to rewrite the novel herself. On that note, I do believe I'd enjoy reading a novel penned by Tabitha. A chevalier as well read as her should have the experiences and skill to create something quite unique.

After being permitted access to Germanian air, the trip to Kirche's estate was not long. If I am being honest, I am quite impressed with the Zerbst home. In size, it even outstrips even the Valliere manor; a part of me wonders if that is intentional. Though the marble columns indicative of traditional Germanian architecture aren't to my particular tastes, I can see there is class to the décor, nothing as gaudy as Kirche's vibrant demeanor would lead one to expect.

Unsurprisingly, there were fifty or so servants ready to greet us. A show of wealth to impress and gauge my reaction while masquerading as merely a greeting ceremony for the return of a lady of the estate. My eye is as keen as ever though, as I was quick to catch the new hire in the group. The maid's uncertain eyes lingered upon Kirche, delaying her bow by a fraction of a second. Odd, as I can say without vanity I know myself to be the more outlandish sight.

The head butler apologized that the lord was finishing other matters and would meet with me as soon as he was available. Normally I would expect such a tactic to be just another ploy to put me off kilter for the negotiations to come. However, I must concede it is entirely possible that the haste with which I came may have left Duke Zerbst honestly tied up with preexisting duties.

Regardless of reason, I still refused the offer to be shown to the living room. Rather, I took Kirche up on her offer to take Tabitha and myself on a personal tour of the estate. If this was a negotiation tactic, Kirche was my counter. If it was an honestly busy schedule, the man needn't worry as his own daughter was entertaining me. Besides, from the perspective of Kirche's friend, I was happy to be shown her home.

The manor itself was interesting enough, but rather my mind only wanders to our encounter in the courtyard. Kirche had been about to show me the gardens when a young boy of about six years darted out of a bush and nearly tackled Kirche. I would have started if not for the uncharacteristically girlish _squeal_ of delight from Kirche. I was able to piece together from their garbled mess of laughs as Kirche tickled the boy into submission and the trailing beleaguered servants that the boy was Kirche's younger brother.

Once the boy had been sufficiently handled Kirche introduced him as Kenneth. It was surprisingly odd seeing Kirche act with such genuine affection. With men Kirche tended to vary between unimpressed indifference and sultry pursuit. Even with myself and Tabitha, she has an almost predatory friendliness. Still, it was not bad to see that side of Kirche. The pale boy himself truly is a treasure. Rambunctious and happy, but lacking the usual obnoxious annoyance commonly found in children.

Our introduction was cut short as the head butler informed me that Kirche's father, Duke Fredrick Zerbst, would see me. Whether from kindness toward me or impetuousness toward her father, Kirche saw me to the man's study. Regardless, I was lucky she did, for while Duke Zerbst chastised Kirche for bringing a Valliere to his home and she replied with some implied slight of him being a merchant before a noble, I stared.

Oh Brimir I do not deny that I stared.

The Founder Brimir himself must have ordered an angel to cut Duke Zerbst from marble. Nay, make that an archangel. To call that man handsome falls so laughably short I cannot begin to explain. Guiche de Gramont from school, I admit he is handsome. If I am being honest, Wardes was a very handsome man. Duke Zerbst? Duke Zerbst is so divinely handsome I can objectionably write about my traitorous ex-husband and not particular care as even the memory of that godly visage makes all else seem trivial. They are so far beneath Duke Zerbst words cannot explain. I had seen portraits of the man around the mansion, and assumed they had embellished his appearance like all good artists do. No, the man's portraits were noticeably _uglier_ than his actual features. No doubt such a man is beyond the ability of mere mortals to capture upon canvas.

I... nay, I shall not write on this any longer, at least not here, on something I cannot burn.

Regardless, yes. Besides that. On the subject of Duke Zerbst and Kirche. Once their verbal spar was done and he turned to me, I must once again thank my habit of wearing a veil. For due to previously mentioned appearances, I was delayed in replying to his introduction. Though off to a faltering start, I was able to recover myself as Kirche exited in a minor huff.

In contrast to the man's bewitching appearance, his temperament was that of stone. Not so much hostile, only guarded. I could tell he was sniffing out just why I was proposing this deal. My official excuse was that it was to solidify the alliance and set an example of burying grudges in the face of the conflict to come did not fool him. If it had I would have been disappointed, such a cover _was_ grounded in truth after all, but I myself gained little from it, as my loyalty was already beyond reproach. Instead we skirted around different prices, both for the material and transportation fees. Nothing concrete, as we were both trying to get the other to commit information first; to show some weakness in their hand. I _knew_ he wanted the deal, any sane businessman would. In the same light, he _knew_ I had some weakness or ploy for offering such a deal.

Annoyingly, we were unable to come close to any real figures before the Duke had to excuse himself for another matter. We will reconvene in the morning, hopefully with better results. Still, I must temper myself, matters involving this much money won't be rushed.

Beyond that I feel it prudent to note that once I managed to temper my baser impulses, I get a strange sense from the man. One of tiredness. Something drains that man beyond a simple long day of work.

At the time I had put such thoughts behind me and reunited with Kirche and Tabitha as the two monitored Kenneth playing with Sylphid. Poor Alistair, the beast was utterly snubbed by the child. Now while common sense would say some children like griffons or dragons more than manticores, I say they are simply wrong. Manticores are the noblest of the great three mounts. That much I can say for certain.

Yes indeed.

Come supper time I met Kirche's mother. A woman so stern I felt a sense of camaraderie with Kirche, what with my own steel forged mother. Admittedly, one would never take the two for relatives, from her plain, pale features to her frigid temperament, she is everything Kirche is not. The two shared only one word of greeting at supper. Even accounting for my presence, such tempered hostility was concerning. Still, it was not my place to comment.

I wonder, did such things even phase Tabitha? The girl ate with the same steady pace she did everything. Something to admire, that independence of hers.

Tenth Day of Brimir's Eighth Month

As is my custom, I shall ask for forgiveness for my poor penmanship. It has been quite the day and I fear my exhaustion coupled with a minor blight attack has unsteadied my hand. The good news is that I did manage to strike a deal with Fredrick Zerbst. Oh, but the news is of so much more import. Indeed, I shall catalog my story as best I can.

I woke in the night to seek the cool evening air. Leaving a sleeping Siesta behind, I had sought to remedy my aches myself. As sad as the thought is, the blight has come upon me enough by now that I can differentiate the standard aches of my body from my worse ailments. That and my growing belly does mean I tend to need to relieve myself more often than I used to.

Upon my return I stumbled upon none other than Duke Zerbst himself. The man was resting against a balcony I must have passed on my way, he was so still I must have missed him on my first pass. Trusting my impulse, I approached the man in the much more familiar setting.

It was... odd. Seeing the stony man let his guard down. After my attempt at small talk failed, a silence fell upon us momentarily. Then, without prompt the man thanked me. He called himself a poor father, but thanked me for watching after his precious daughter. I almost thought it a joke, Kirche has supported me far more than I her.

Perhaps it was the genuine affection I hold for Kirche or simply the wine in Duke Zerbsts hand, but he revealed to me a secret I would have never imagined in all my wildest thoughts. Kirche is his _illegitimate_ daughter. Born of the love the man held for another noblewoman. Someone beyond his reach. Legally, Kirche was claimed as his own, a cover so as to prevent a schism within Germania. Such implications left me dumbstruck.

Even as the man explained, it all dawned on me. Why Kirche acted out, why her "mother" acted so cold, even why Kenneth looked so different. It also explained why Kirche fell in with Tabitha so quickly. The two were kindred spirits. The man blamed himself for being unable to rein his daughter in, and felt like a hypocrite at every turn. For his own passions led to her, who was he to restrain Kirche?

When his soft voice trailed off into silence it had taken a minute for me to truly absorb the revelation. Then, without provocation, I told him the truth. As he had given me his confidence, I would give him mine. I explained my disagreement with Edward Borde and how the man sought to take his revenge. I detailed the trust being arrayed against me and how I could appear weak enough for merchants to control me or disloyal enough to delay armament measures to fill my own pocketbook.

In truth, the man took the news gracefully. It was not the great secret he had revealed to me, but it was meaningful never the less. Plainly, he offered a price for the iron. Though when and how the payments would be transferred would take some logistical planning, the point is he plainly offered a deal that solidly favored him, _if_ I was not backed into a corner. Should any nobles inspect the deal it will seem that an experienced negotiator worked out a good deal with one who was still new to the world of trade. If you take into the account that I had nowhere to turn to, the deal is far and away the best I could dream of. I will still make gold hand over foot. One instance of "poor negotiations" for simple raw materials will hardly cripple me. Regardless of their knowledge of surrounding circumstances, any nobles outside looking in will see a deal that saves face for both myself and Duke Zerbst. Suddenly Kirche's mention of her father's prowess in trade makes more sense. The man balanced money and societal clout with impressive acuity.

His other demands were a simple request to have his airships armed first and a not so simple demand, to bring Kirche Zerbst under my protection. Obviously I can arm his airships first, at worst my Father will be a bit annoyed. But his second request was one I did not agree to lightly.

To explain to any future scribes who live in a culture too foreign to my own. What Duke Zerbst asked was not something informal such as to look out for his daughter. To take someone under my protection is to offer them the same support I would a member of my family. That is, anything under my power so long as I am not directly acting against Tristain's crown.

I have grown fond of Kirche, I will admit. For her to have my protection in a time of war is nothing I would consider a hindrance. So, in no way was I reluctant to offer her that kind of support, yet I still did not agree lightly. I did give my word; and I give it with the weight honor demands.

Now, as I sit here once more at the Nymph's Rest, I think upon my friend Kirche. If you were to ask for my thoughts on Kirche back during my bygone school days I would have called her a vindictive harlot without quality. As time passed and I began my journey through life she showed me strange, vexing affection that I cannot deny saved me when I was at my lowest. Such a strange friendship matured to the point where even though she always finds a way to try my composure, I cannot say in truth her jests are unwelcome. Still, up until Duke Zerbst revealed his secret, I considered Kirche to be the ideal measure of confidence; perhaps my opinion of her demeanor was too high. I see her now as a person with her own trials and past. Still, before anything, she is my friend.

Eleventh Day of Brimir's Eighth Month

DAMNATION AND HELLFIRE UPON THAT MAN!

I write my curse with a hand so taut with rage I care not the labor it puts upon the paper beneath! I shall dig a mine so deep that it cuts into the depths of hell and cast that damnable beast within! My revenge will not quell in the face of a thousand tortured pleas for forgiveness! Mine is an unquenchable wrath that burns without falter! Oh yes, I shall have my vengeance one day, but for now I shall explain in detail, just what that man did. I shall commit it to memory so as to never forget the slight.

I had returned to my estate by the evening, bringing Kirche and Tabitha along as it was closer to Gallia than the academy. Apparently Tabitha has business in her home country. The trip had been one of measured levity. As calm, even calmer than the trip to the Zerbst lands; only held back by the secret that I knew of Kirche's past.

Twas only after I took my walk with Colbert that I came to the conclusion to speak to Kirche. The professor had offered advice based on my vague insinuations that I wanted to tell Kirche something that might affect our relationship. He was right, of course, that I should speak with Kirche. And, with all my courage and tact summoned, I journeyed alone to the guest room I had lent her.

It was difficult, but with all the eloquence I could muster I bared my heart to Kirche. That her father had told me her secret. That I would tell no one and that it would not affect our relationship nor my opinion of her. In fact the only reason I spoke it was to assure our continued friendship was one without walls born of secrets. Then, counter to every possibility I imagined, Kirche _laughed._

No, she _guffawed_. A continuous, bellowing cascade of confusing, enraging laughter. With tears in her eyes Kirche explained in no uncertain terms that I had been duped!

Duped!

Apparently her lord father is the type to make up wild stories simply to gain the upper hand in negotiations. All that nonsense of Kirche being illegitimate was nothing more than twisted words to drop my guard. Looking back I am all the more infuriated that the man didn't _technically_ lie. He simply told me Kirche was born of another noblewoman. Kirche explained her mother died when she was young and Duke Zerbst remarried. Kenneth is her half brother!

The man probably had me monitored so when I rose that night he could place himself where I would "stumble" upon him for a candid talk. I bet he doesn't even normally have his chest so slightly exposed by his evening wear. Oh Brimir, even his hair had been well kept; not the tangles one would expect from a sleepless night in bed. The man had seduced me with his damned body and confused me with half-truths!

I should have known. Kirche hadn't hidden her accusation that the man was a merchant first. If I hadn't been so pressed for time and retrieved a family tree of the Zerbst I could have found this knowledge out beforehand. Brimir damn that man!

Would you like to know the worst part? The man played me on more than just price. Sure, the price he chose still holds the qualities I spoke of before. The fact that I cannot be truly dissatisfied by the deal even though I was conned so entirely means all my fury is without recourse. What, do I seek revenge on a man who outmaneuvered me? Even more, I had been tested. Surely Zerbst would know if I revealed the "secret," and if I had done so or attempted to blackmail him I would have played right into a trap. Founder Brimir my honor was tested like some child being left alone with a cookie jar!

Gah! I do NOT respect that man! I tell you this! He is a damn trickster and nothing more! No matter how pretty!

Some evening practice with my magic has calmed me somewhat I suppose. Enough that I feel it necessary to write down that my word to protect Kirche still stands. _**I**_do not lie for my own benefit, even if not all can claim such honor.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: First off. I was incorrectly calling Louise's manticore Alistair last chapter. Alistair is the name I use for Karin's manticore in another fic, hence my flub. I have changed the name back and used Alexis throughout this chapter. Thanks to Meneldur for pointing this out.

Speaking of thanks: Thank you Meneldur, Sceptic, and No One for your proofreading. As rusty as I am it is very much appreciated. Also thanks to everyone who commented! They really give me motivation to keep going. I'll try to have the next chapter out in a week, but I am having some family visit soon, so there might be a slight delay.

Records of Change

Chapter 10

Twelfth Day of Brimir's Eighth Month

Admittedly, I was sad to see Tabitha and Kirche leave this morning. My current reservations involving Kirche's father do not diminish the affection I hold for the pair. However, I am not so selfish as to begrudge the two a visit to Tabitha's family, nor am I so devoid of grace as to inquire into the nature of the visit. One can only assume the kind of delicate family situation a bastard such as Tabitha would have. Due to her schooling and excellence with magic I very much doubt she has been excommunicated, but... Bah, I really shouldn't be stewing on Tabitha's family life. Tis ignoble of me to gossip even with myself.

A messenger hawk arrived from Duke Zerbst not long after his daughter left; its message detailed the expected shipment dates of Zerbst iron. Annoying as the thought of the man is, I still signed and accepted the schedule without delay. Based on the projected dates I should never dip too low in iron even accounting for possible delays. In fact... Oh Brimir, for Duke Zerbst to have such an accurate schedule he must have sniffed out far more information from me than I realized in our initial negotiations. To be played so thoroughly! I feel once more like a naïve babe. That cad!

Well, I must remember to breathe. At the very least I can take a lesson both in trade and diplomacy. As much as Duke Zerbst vexes me; I must admit for how thoroughly he played me he was rather reserved in what he took. Where he could have crippled me, he simply slapped me with enough force to make the lesson stick. Ahah! That is why I am so bothered! The man did not treat me as an equal, but as a child to teach a lesson to! A pox upon him! Twenty poxes upon him!

Bah, I will eject that man from my thoughts for no more good can come from such a demon.

As for the rest of my day? Surprisingly I had somewhat of a lull in responsibilities as cannon production and fleet armament are finally scheduled and fully staffed. Of course there is more to do in the future, there always seems to be; however, for at least today I was able to relax. Travel aboard an airship is easier than most alternatives, but draining all the same. So the rest is most welcome.

I enjoyed tea in my gardens with Siesta. Tis only out of the sight of all others does the girl allow herself to speak with some familiarity. A simple chat, but enjoyable all the same. Her perspective on our visit Zerbst estate is most interesting. She remarked that the servants of the Zerbst were quite friendly with her in the few moments she was away from me. No doubt trying to pry out any information she may have overheard me discus or disclose to her. Interesting... I shall have to make use of such a tactic in the future. Though I do not doubt Siesta's insistence that she spoke of nothing involving my business. Between her loyalty. shy nature, and limited time away from my side, I doubt even a servant as crafty as Duke Zerbst himself could have drawn more than a word or two from Siesta.

After tea I spent some time training Alexis. This turned out to be more of an issue than I originally thought. Alexis is almost _too_ friendly. The beast has a good heart, but is so interested in pleasing that it can conflict with more complex commands. I also lack the ability to fly with Alexis; an action normally used to bond with a manticore. In truth I am simply not up to the very physical task of raising a manticore properly. After review, I have sent a letter to Pierre Bellamy, the vice captain of the Manticore Knights, requesting his advice on hiring a professional manticore trainer. I met the man back at my first wedding, and I am sure anyone he recommends will be up to the task. Now, before you complain future scribe, I am well aware that my mother would surely know of an acceptable candidate. My reasoning for not asking her is twofold. One, obviously she is a busy woman during these trying times. Secondly, and more importantly, I can't forever rely on my parents' contacts. One must make their own friends and allies if they plan to survive in the world of nobles.

As for my afternoon? Well I did manage to corner Jean for a game of chess. I am rather sore to admit he defeated me most soundly. I should have known a mind as logical as his was more than a match for my own. Ever the gentleman, he allowed me to challenge him a few more times before I realized he was beginning to go easy on me. At some point the games shifted from competition to instruction, but the time was well spent. Never before have I truly enjoyed chess, but with Jean it seems to act as mental stimulus. It serves as a nice diversion as we converse.

Finally, even on my rest day I made sure to make my nightly walk to the grave on the hill. Tis always a trying and somber journey, but it ever steels my resolve for the coming days. One look at that grave and I understand the gravity of each decision I make. With the blockade and conflict to come that resolve will be needed. I just hope I can make the right choices when the time comes.

Thirteenth Day of Brimir's Eighth Month

I had made mental notes throughout the day on what to write in my nightly entry. However, the boring knowledge of sending out for different staff hiring's and expanding my house guard all flies in the face of the grand event that happened.

You see, my child, today I felt you kick.

Well, not unaided mind you. To explain; I am obviously ignorant of the specifics of pregnancy. I know that I am supposed to feel you kick at some point, but I had yet to feel you move at all. I explained my unease to Blanche; an emotionally poor choice as the woman has the empathy of a particularly unfeeling rock. However, her calm, rational explanation still calmed my nerves. To her knowledge, I shouldn't be feeling you kick for at least another month at the very earliest.

Still, perhaps Blanche does have _some_ kindness to her, as she offered to cast "Sense Enhancement" on me after I expressed continuing unease with what issues my ailing body might produce. "Sense Enhancement" may not require much willpower, but it does require prodigiously finite control. I am once again reminded I have a square class water mage on retainer. Blanche handled the process with the dull professionalism she always does with barely a remark for how difficult such a spell should be.

For a moment I thought nothing was happening. Then I felt it, the warmth on my belly. Rather, I could distinctly make out my own body warmth. Strange as it is to say, I became aware of each individual hair on my belly. Even the blood coursing through my veins left a faint tremble. Yet all of that information faded away into the ether when I felt you shift. A faint thing, but there all the same. There was relief, knowing I hadn't failed as a mother. Knowing my decision hadn't been made in vain.

Even the implacable Blanche forgave my selfish request for her to maintain the spell for some time. I am not ashamed to admit I wept. Tears of love rather than of sadness.

My child, I think you may be a gentle soul. Your soft movements fill me with warmth, and Blanch says I have been spared some of the more bothersome pregnancy ailments. I have no real morning sickness to speak of, and you are not yet large enough that my movement is impeded. My breasts are growing and often sore, but that is not _entirely _unwelcome. Hopefully soon Kirche will lack that particular avenue for teasing. Truly, my only true annoyance is increased number of trips to the privy.

For the record, my earlier tears are _not_ the increased emotional intensity a pregnant woman exhibits. Blanche can keep her wild accusations to herself.

Fourteenth Day of Brimir's Eighth Month

With my parents soon to visit I needed a distraction. Today, that distraction came in the form of magic experimentation. To my good fortune Jean finally allowed himself a break from working on the school and sending out letters of invitation to colleagues. As such, my friend spent the day alternating between being a teasing bother and an insightful mind to bounce ideas off of. Luckily he spent more time as the latter; if only because I quickly learned not to lament about my parents' visit in front of him.

Holding two light orbs has become second nature to me. More than that will start to drain willpower faster than I replenish it however. I am sure with increased practice I can decrease the willpower necessary to contain the light. If nothing else, it will be a good exercise to increase my control. Beyond that, if I actively maintain focus I can keep five light orbs running, seven if I focus _only_ on the orbs and nothing else.

Jean has compared my use of my light orbs as willpower storage to how an earth mage stores their willpower in a particular patch of land or golem. Though earth mages are the only mages that _must_ have natural material present to work their craft, such techniques more than compensate for such a weakness.

With some advice from Jean I was able to adjust the color of the light orbs. In their natural state they are a very pure white light. However, it seems if I place a mental filter to remove all but one color I can shift the color of the light to whatever I desire. At first I thought it an odd, roundabout way to adjust the spell; but Jean is a fire mage and therefore a bit of a specialist on light in general. So, after stubbornly trying and failing other techniques, I did relent and take the man's advice. Indeed, no sooner had I visualized a filter than did the orb change to whatever color I preferred.

Tis odd actually; my magic exhibits properties of both fire and earth magic. True, it is only on a surface level; but perhaps I should delve into techniques of air and water mages to see if there is anything to be gleaned.

Hopefully either the school of air or water will hold a technique to cross my next hurdle, for Jean and I became rather stumped when I attempted to adjust the shape of my light orbs. No matter how I shifted my willpower or twisted control based incantations, I cannot get my orbs to do more than temporarily warp.

Another issue that has arisen with my light orbs is that with two active at the same time I am noticing a lack of distinct control unless I concentrate. As soon as I tether them off in the back of my mind the orbs begin to drift. At their most basic level they are concentrations of raw willpower. So, even stored in the form of light I cannot just keep them within my body, my natural willpower repulses them. While trailing globes of light has a certain mystifying affect, I don't really need any more help standing out. With my dark clothing, veil, cane, and clashing pink hair, I am already a bit of a spectacle.

Instead, Colbert suggested drained windstones; I have them in bountiful supply and they are known for being particularly conductive to magic. Indeed, upon testing I found that a drained windstone has an almost magnetic affect upon my light orbs. Minor, and in no way a true storage container for raw willpower; but the effect is enough to keep the light orbs within when my mind wanders.

Another instance of my own magic behaving similarly to standard elemental magic; interesting.

For now though I have sent a request detailing my needs to one of the top jewelers in the capital. A countess cannot wear something as cheap as depowered windstones, and it will take a skilled craftsman to create a necklace that serves its purpose while befitting my station. This will be my first selfish purchase with my newly acquired wealth. It is odd actually. I sent a down payment that would color the cheeks of most lower nobles. However, I am a Countess who has gained both the lands and funds to match her title. I shall dress the part if I wish to command respect from my fellow nobility.

Fifteenth Day of Brimir's Eighth Month

Duke Zerbst's flagship arrived at La Rochelle today with a contingent of Germanian airships. They came bearing Zerbst iron and will leave with cannons, as was our arrangement. I did not go to meet with the man as I had already given my site managers all the authority they needed to make the exchanges. After the Zerbst ships are armed the Valliere fleet will follow; with my own war galleon and sloop to follow after that.

My reluctance to meet Duke Zerbst does stem in part from my mixed feelings over my defeat at his hands. However, more than that my heart wavers at the thought of my parents' arrival tomorrow. I haven't even seen my mother since I was crippled. Not that she hadn't tried mind you; I have previously rebuffed her inquires requesting a visit.

A part of me wishes she had ignored my wishes and visited regardless, but in my stubborn denial I had relied on the half-truth of wanting to solidify my power as a noble and to not be seen as a child being controlled by the Vallieres. I used Mother's own pride to keep her away... tis my fault I am in this situation.

Jean took time away from his school to have tea with me. His support is most welcome. Though I cannot ask him to be with me when I break the news to my parents, his calming presence is something I will greedily partake of for now.

Sixteenth Day of Brimir's Eighth Month

I think having a blight attack every hour would have made for a less draining day than today. When my parents arrived this afternoon I met them in my foyer and showed them myself to the living room. I am sure they greeted me so formally due to a mix of reasons. I have grown sharp enough to notice Mother's eyes linger upon my missing arm and scarred face. She had a steel in her that was hard to read, but I could guess there was a mix of regret to see her daughter so, and pride of my service to Tristain.

My Father was still very much set in "Father" mode. Our correspondence has been much more informal and he had previously seen my injuries, so his formality stemmed from why he presumed I asked him to meet me. As soon as we were seated Father was quick to ask for my explanation as to why I had chosen to slight him by arming his nemesis before himself. Of course, I took the wind from his sails with a plain explanation of the details surrounding my deal with the Zerbst and reasoning for doing so.

While it was his right to still be annoyed at the slight, such a rational explanation put me beyond any real reproach. Enough so that Father and Mother were quick to realize there was something more to my invitation than I had initially let on. A conclusion only further evidenced by my reluctance to get on with it.

In the end I did tell my parents I am dying. At first I relied an what resolve I could steel within myself to maintain composure as I explained exactly how I had contracted the blight and why I had made my decisions. At some point that composure had crumbled and Father embraced me. After that I became too emotional to remember exactly what I said and when, I only know that I explained everything as best I could between my tears.

Blanche arrived at some point to offer relief and an explanation from a medical perspective. I knew the details of manticore blight obviously, and mother was familiar, but Father had a slew of hopeless questions about what possible avenues could be taken to beat what ailed me. My father is a thinker, a planner; a man who believes the right tactical move could turn any battle, literal or otherwise.

As for Mother? She didn't embrace me. At the time it had hurt in a dull way. I could see her clenching her hands in an exertion to maintain her control. She refused to speak at first, whether it was because she could not trust her voice or otherwise I cannot be sure. Perhaps she felt nothing at all. Perhaps I just wanted to see the signs that she was holding herself and fooled myself into thinking she cared. I honestly do not know.

Seventeenth Day of Brimir's Eighth Month

This day was as draining as the last, but at least there was some good cheer to be had. Both my parents have decided to stay for at least the few days they can spare to be with me. Though Father will eventually have to leave for the blockade camp at the port of Bayonne, it is not so far a journey I cannot visit him. As for Mother, though she will return to the Valliere estate I cannot say I am as inclined to visit her. Not that I resent her, it is just that our relationship has become strained.

On a lighter note I was able to introduce Jean to my parents on a less formal occasion than my previous wedding. I say introduce, but it seems my mother is already familiar with the man to some degree. At first Father and Jean did not find much in common, what with my father being a renowned military man and Jean being as pacifistic as he is. I had stepped away to fetch the two some of my reserve brandy as an excuse to escape the awkward aura, yet when I returned the two had mystically become fast friends and were playing chess. What is it about men that allows them to warm to one another so easily? A vexing gender, males are.

In my attempt to hold a conversation with Mother I ended up bringing a burden upon poor Siesta. I mentioned the maid's lack of fencing teacher in hopes of gaining mother's recommendation for a good enough instructor I could hire that wouldn't balk at the idea of training a maid. Her response was to personally evaluate Siesta.

Though it took a direct command from Mother insinuating that Siesta didn't truly wish to protect me, but she did get my maid to face her with training swords. Surprisingly, Siesta held her own better than I expected. I know she goes through the drills Agnes taught her every day without falter, but I did not expect her to manage as well as she did against Mother, even with Mother refraining from using magic.

After a time Mother seemed to be satisfied with Siesta and called to a halt in the exercise. According to her Siesta needs a sparing partner more than an instructor. As she put it I should see to hiring a true master at arms rather than relying on the captain of my house guard. Though Mother's minor reproach of my household affairs stung, she is right. My house guard is composed of the remainder of my late husbands retinue and is led by a promoted man who is a captain in name only. Beyond that I have the soldiers I hired to guard the prisoner camp outside Tarbes. Hiring a master at arms that could command and expand both forces is a good idea.

Tis odd, sad even, that my most familiar relations I can have with my own mother is when she is exposing weaknesses in my conduct.

Eighteenth Day of Brimir's Eighth Month

Father has delayed his departure until tomorrow on the excuse of seeing his fleet arrive for armament, but his duty will take him from my home early tomorrow morning. We went over a schedule for his ships and he explained what La Rochelle might be called on to help with in the coming blockade. Yet all throughout our business I could tell Father's heart wasn't with him.

Twas only after our business was completed and I embraced the man did he let the façade of a military man drop. We spent some time, talking about stories when I was young. From silly times he played with me as a toddler, to my few victories at school. And after it all he told me how proud he was of me. I think I needed that more than anything else. The knowledge that I have lived up to what he knew I was capable of fills me with a sense that I can only describe as completeness.

In that moment I did confess why worries over my strained relationship with Mother. True, she had always been a strong, hard woman, but this was more than that. Father's only advice was to delay my nightly walk and seek out my own training grounds.

At fathers request I ventured alone to my training fields once evening had fallen. The still, silent night exploded into a torrent of howling winds as soon as I crossed the sound dampening wards and entered the minor valley my own explosions had dug over time. There I found Mother, throwing spell after spell against the rocky hill before her. She carved out craters rivaling even my own explosions with nothing more than sharpened air.

For a time, I simply stood in the shadowed area behind my mother. Again and again she threw her magic against the earth before her. Throughout my life I have always struggled to understand my mother's heart when we talked; but there, watching her cast, I finally could understand her feelings. She was a woman of actions, not words; and those very actions communicated to me on a level I can only begin to comprehend.

Stress, guilt, sadness, anger and fury, I could feel what plagued my mother as she wore herself down into a sweaty mess. My initial thought was to leave Mother to her privacy, but I have grown assertive and decided I would use the remainder of my lifespan how I see fit. Thus, I cleared my throat and strode into the valley with my mother.

Her surprise alone would have been worth the trip. A funny thing, seeing that woman with her composure broken. However, the true boon was how I was able to pry out my mother's worries with relative ease. She irrationally blames herself; thinking that if she had let me simply live at the Valliere estate, or even gotten me a dragon rather than one of her own manticores. Foolish thoughts, as I would not have accepted becoming a burden on the family, and had I been riding a dragon the day I had defended Tarbes it would have left me to fall to my death.

Still, I understand that guilt can often be irrational, so I replied with an action any past version of myself would have called crazy. I myself embraced my mother. Though she was rigid at first, she soon returned my affection. Though our embrace was silent, it wasn't empty. We spent some time there in the upturned dirt of the training grounds; together as family.

Nineteenth Day of Brimir's Eighth Month

Both my parents had to leave this morning. Father cannot delay his departure to Bayonne any longer and Mother must see the army there to reinforce the port. Though Mother will have to return to manage the Valliere land soon after, she has promised to arrange a time when we can all meet either Bayonne or here in Tarbes.

Just before my mother left upon her manticore I stopped her. I wanted to tell her the words I had kept to myself last time she left me. With all the conviction I could muster, I told her I realized her life may have left her ill suited to the task of motherhood, but I truly appreciate how much she cares for me. Though part of me feared she would view my words as a slight, I pressed on and told her I would not trade her for anyone, for no one could have given me as much dedication as her. With all my heart I declared she would always be my mother, and I her daughter.

Mother did not reply with cold steel I was used to or the raw emotion I had experienced from her the previous night. No, she smiled with pride and told me she too would trade me for no other daughter.

Twenty-First Day of Brimir's Eighth Month

I have missed a nightly entry due to a hesitant spirit brought on by the subject of the letters I wrote yesterday. I know not which letter was the more difficult task. That to my sister Eleanor or to Henrietta.

Though Mother will break the news to Cattleya; Eleanor is at the Tristain-Gallia Academy of High Magical Learning. Thus it is up to me to contact her with my news. Eleanor has always been harsh with me; mimicking Mother in her own way I expect. As such I have some difficulty dealing with her. I wanted to express my lack of regret without devaluing my own life. A task that was harder than I first expected. Bah, knowing Eleanor she will probably write back with a critique of any grammatical errors I make.

Contrary to the technical difficulty of Eleanor's letter, my message to Henrietta was a trial due to the emotional weight behind it. I wish to express my love for my dear friend, yet even now I feel inadequate of her. At the same time I must temper my writing for Henrietta leads our army. What if my words were to instill a regret or sorrow that would reverberate throughout Tristain's forces? Damnation upon me, I fear failing her once more even in the simple act of telling her the truth.

What's more, some part of me fears she will not be saddened by my passing. We have been without correspondence for some time as she has been embroiled in politics and preparations. Our only true interaction was in front of the nobles of the court at the ball. Even then it was one of liege and vassal, not that of friends.

Even now I stew over the letter I sent yesterday. What words I wrote seem worse with each passing moment of mental critique. Surely, I am a poor friend.

Twenty-Third Day of Brimir's Eighth Month

Once more I must apologize for skipping an entry. Though at the very least this time it is for a more positive reason. Last night at an improperly late hour, Princess Henrietta arrived by Pegasus. The winged horses are not often used as battle mounts due to their rarity and lack of battle hardiness, but there is no mount as fast in a marathon as a Pegasus. The Princess had flown from Bayonne to Tarbes at full speed without rest.

At first I was frozen with fear. I must have rambled off half a dozen incoherent protests against her presence. For her to travel alone was dreadfully dangerous, that I was not worthy of such effort, or that simply she must be very busy with the army. Yet the tears in her eyes broke what steel I had in my heart, and her embrace melted my reluctance.

She had come not as a liege of a nation, nor as the commander of an army, but as one rushing to the side of her dear friend. The shards of self-hate that had hidden away in the cracks of my heart since that day I failed her burned away in the light of her friendship. Once more I remember why I am loyal to Henrietta. It is not just because she is my liege, it is not just because I was raised to support the crown, it was because my friend believed from the beginning that I had worth.

Even though her duties far outnumber my own, Henrietta made time for me just to prove how much she cared. She couldn't stay, even for the night. As the army could not wake with their commander missing. So, I summoned my sloop and woke the poor sailors. Patriots as they are, the men were quick to wake at the sight of their Princess. The hours it took to deliver the Princess to Bayonne were spent rekindling our friendship with memories and laughs within my cabin.

A weight unlike any other has been lifted from me. Even with the world pulling us apart at every turn, Princess Henrietta remains my friend.

Twenty-Fourth Day of Brimir's Eighth Month

As opposed to the emotional turmoil of the week past, I once more stepped into the shoes of a ruler today. First on my list was reviewing Jean's choices of teaching and administrative staff for his school. A task necessary both as countess of the land and as acting treasurer of said school. As is usual with institutions such as these, the stipends of the teachers are nothing truly affluent, but enough to live comfortably on. True money as an academic was gained with the results of one's research rather than the position itself. So as a treasurer I had no issues with what Jean wished. As a Countess? Well I am more impressed than anything else.

As Countess of Tarbes and its surrounding lands, it will come to me to govern the nobles that settle within my domain. As such it is my right to bar any entry. It is not something commonly exercised mind you, but the option means I must go through the formality of approving them all the same. The names I approved are what impressed me. I recognized quite a few as distinguished academics, both in natural sciences and magical theory. Even the heir to Count Dumont was requesting a stay as a researching. In two years time the man would be my equal in rank. What is more, that wasn't even the highest ranked candidate.

Eleanor had applied for the position of head of the magical-technical application wing; a field of study that is Colbert's own idea. He explained it as using magic to enhance rather than replace mundane technology, though the specifics are above my expertise. What boggles my mind is that Eleanor is the Valliere heir, even though she technically isn't Duchess yet no one in their right mind would even place me as her equal. For someone of her rank to leave her current position to work a fledgling project is socially quite surprising. Though, honestly, it does make sense. Father has often lamented that she is an academic first and an heir second. I shall just try to stay out of whatever turmoil this decision of hers causes.

On the other side of the social spectrum is Blanche; apparently my healer has convinced Jean to create a medical research division, with her as an administrator just below head of said division. A clever woman, that Blanche; both convincing Jean of her ideas and acknowledging that her status as bastard would push away others if she were head of her own creation. That, and rather than seek a proper wing of study, she requested a simple division within the Natural Sciences wing. This way she can hold _some_ rank without causing issue. Also, it is not lost on me that the proposed head of the medical research division is a lord from the capital, someone she has no doubt already proved her acumen to.

I brought this insight up with Jean, which to my surprise annoyed the man. In all the proposed staff, only three are commoners by birth. A pair merchants who penned a joint treatise on economics and one smith who has written on the composition of alloys. Finding a commoner who is both educated and bold enough to stand with nobles has proved a task of great difficulty. I had to remind the man that that was an issue he had the means to correct, and that it would take strength to keep the nobles working for him despite their possible common born students.

Twenty- Fifth Day of Brimir's Eighth Month

If yesterday I wore the mantle of an administrator, today I donned that of an entrepreneur. My fledgling airship merchant Betrand truly came into his own with his first trade mission. The man took what he earned from the sale of wine and bought textiles, which were then traded halfway back for preserved foodstuffs, which in turn were sold to the army supply officers in La Rochelle. A decision that turned a significantly greater profit than I expected when I sent him out to sell my product.

Though the lions share of the profits is mine, as it was my wine sold on my airships, I still feel a reward is due to Betrand for stepping beyond his experience and proving himself as true merchant. As such I have given him an even greater opportunity. With my entire merchant fleet flying and manned; I gave him control over all four airships, and the funds to stock each. If the man fails, he shall return to controlling one airship. If he succeeds, and if my intuation is right he will, I shall have found a diamond in the rough and Betrand will rise to the status and wealth his skill deserves.

That completed fleet came with an issue I had long delayed addressing. An excess of prisoner workers I had promised work and pay to. I made a trip to the prisoner encampment to both seek ideas and gauge their temperament. It should be noted that between the prisoners pooling notes of credit and their own work ethic, that camp has transformed into more of a small town than a true camp. It is still guarded and walled, but they have had a well, a common hall, and even a cleared area set aside for games of leisure. I know at one point I was asked permission to build a tavern, something I had to turn down. Being lenient on smuggled alcohol was one thing, encouraging a bunch of penned up sailors to drink in excess was another.

Speaking of alcohol, that was my solution to my manpower issue. In my conversation with the prisoner representatives, I have learned that most of my unoccupied prisoners were originally farmers drafted or recruited by the Reconquista. So I am assigning all free prisoners to the command of Siesta's father Liam to plow new fields. The man's wine sold quite well and with a trade fleet more product to export can only lead to profit. Liam was initially overwhelmed by my proposal; enough so that I was sure to make it clear that this was an optional offer rather than a command. The man was quick to agree, humbly saying that though he did not deserve such an opportunity, he would not fail.

Much like my opportunity given to Betrand, this is a test. Liam is excellent at what he does and it will be up to him to prove he can translate that expertise to a management role. If he fails, I'll leave him to work his original land and hire a separate manager to oversee the multiple fields. Though it is true that I own the land Liam works, I am not so foolish as to remove a man from his ancestral home if he fails at a challenge I myself set for him.

Siesta herself thanked me for what I am doing for her family; of course I rebuffed such a notion. Though Siesta's service to me is without equal, my choice to develop my own lands was one of rational planning, not gratitude. Now, the request I sent to Agnes de Milan for recommendation on suitable master at arms with skill in fencing _was _partially one of gratitude. Of course I shall not tell Siesta of my plan just yet, I do wish to surprise her.

Twenty-Sixth Day of Brimir's Eighth Month

Today I spoke with Fouquet. Not to go over a report of hers or plan out any future subterfuge, but rather she had a request to make of me; and what a request it was. She asked for an advance on an entire year's pay.

In truth I should have seen something coming, the woman had grown increasingly stressed recently. Still, the sum she requested is nothing to scoff at. Though within my power, I was not about to hand over such a sum without explanation. So, though it took more than a little prying, she eventually relented and explained her reasoning.

Apparently my spymaster has been sending her wages to her sister in Albion. Her sister who runs an _orphanage_. She needed to get her funds to her sister before the blockade sealed them off. I admit my initial reaction was one of incredulity. I half expected this to be some jest of Fouquet's. Yet her expression was vulnerable enough that I realized that she was in fact, a far better person than I had originally estimated. Though she was not happy when I realized aloud that she had been a virtuous thief from a storybook; stealing from the rich and giving to the needy.

Though her blush was half embarrassment and half anger, her face shifted to surprise when I agreed to her request without pomp. Fouquet trusted me enough to ask rather than simply steal what she needed and disappear into Albion, a task well within her talents. Tis a trust I shall return. Of course, even beyond sentiment Fouquet is an invaluable asset and nearly any gamble would be worth retaining her loyalty.

On that note I should be glad I lived up to Fouquet's expectations. For some time I expected to wake up with my treasury plundered and spymaster missing, yet still she remains. I shall make a note for now, should that day ever come I will need to take a hard look at myself to make sure I have not fallen to the trap of entitlement so many nobles succumb to.

Twenty-Seventh Day of Brimir's Eighth Month

Progress!

While working with some depowered windstones to see just how they affected my light orbs I came upon quite a large leap forward. When I tried to release as much control as possible upon my light orb it quickly dispersed into a strange, glowing fog of light. It is an unnatural feeling to forcibly relaxing my hold on my own willpower, but after some practice I am able to reliable repeat the technique.

There are issues currently. For one, the fog expends its stored willpower relatively fast, making it useless for storing ready to cast explosions. What is more, I cant seem to control the fog more than simple movements and disturbances. Any real control rests firmly beyond my grasp for the time being. The best I was able to achieve with a days practice were minor shifts in color. Though currently useless, tis still a brand new spell for me. One I shall refrain from naming until I gain a better understanding of its limits.

Truly, recent events are giving me an optimistic outlook on the future. I hold no secrets from my loved ones. My lands are expanding and my people are well taken care of. Socially, I have clout and respect. Even though I suffered a rather powerful blight attack this afternoon I still maintain a positive outlook. I shant allow what ails me to detract from the good I've done or my numerous successes.

Twenty-Eighth Day of Brimir's Eighth Month

Upon reading my previous fate-taunting entry I do believe I might have asked for this. I write this entry far later than is my usual, far later than even when I usually go to sleep. Just as I had been sitting down to write my nightly entry a thunderous crunch alerted me to a disturbance outside.

Tabitha's young wind dragon Sylphid had all but crash landed in my courtyard, the poor dragon bore numerous wounds and a particularly gapping hole in her wing. Her passengers faired no better. The only conscious rider was a burned and bloodied Kirche. My friend was delirious from exhaustion and blood loss, mumbling of elves and other unintelligible warnings before she blacked out. Despite Kirche's exhausted state, it took two of my house guard to pry her arms off of the other two unconscious passengers she was holding to Sylphid.

I recognized the first as Tabitha. The normally implacable girl looked so frail; pale and wounded as she was. I almost thought her expired at first, but Colbert assured me he felt breaths as he carried her to Blanche. What truly worried me was the fist sized hole in her abdomen covered with ice. Something like that... No, I must rely on Blanche.

The third passenger was one I have never met, but from the resemblance I can guess the woman to be Tabitha's mother. Though thankfully unharmed, the woman seemed to be in some kind of magical sleep. A sleeping potion is the most likely culprit.

I have set Blanche to the task of caring for the three and had Sylphid retired in Alexis' stable. Dragons are hardy beings and their healing is quite powerful, her life is not in danger at the very least. Blanche gave no such assurances for my two friends.

Though I wanted to let fear and fretting consume me, I knew that would not help my friends. Instead I put myself to the task of doing what I could. I sent Fouquet with Alexis to La Rochelle to retrieve what reagents Blanche requested that weren't within my stores. Under my orders my house guard has locked down my manor. No one leaves or enters without my permission. Luckily the night sky is darkened by clouds so I doubt any in Tarbes nor the countryside saw Sylphid arrive and I will keep that information contained as long as I can until I know more. Though I doubt Kirche's delirious mumblings of an elf, I will not underestimate whatever enemy did that to the two most powerful students of the academy. Nor will I forgive whoever hurt my friends.

Whoever they are, they will learn the price of my wrath.


End file.
